If you've played The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, then you know that there's a transformation mask you get that lets Link turn into a Zora. Of course, it's not just some random Zora that he turns into, but specifically, he turns into Mikau, the lead guitarist of a famous band.
Despite there being a couple of inconsequential visual differences between the two, everyone sees Zora Link and immediately recognizes him as Mikau, addressing him as such and never for a moment imagining that he might be anything or anyone else, despite the simple fact that he is NOT Mikau, and that Mikau is actually dead.
For the longest time, I never thought anything of it, but very recently, that's been sticking out quite a lot in my mind, especially as I've stabilized into Grand Unified Kyou and consolidated my control over this body over the past year or so.
This body has a name, but it's not my name.
This body has a face, but it's not my face.
And yet, when all of the people of the Real World see me, they don't see ME, but instead they see the body. They assume that, because I'm wearing his face, I AM that body. Indeed, it's like I'm wearing a mask I can't take off, stuck with the shape, voice, and appearance of a dead person whose body I'm puppeteering.
And it's not even a matter of "this just sounds like you're closeted trans; you should just transition already lmao"—it's not a simple matter of the body being the wrong gender or anything like that. No, it's just NOT. MY. BODY. Pumping it full of drugs and/or undergoing surgery to alter its shape wouldn't change that fact, not for a second, no matter how fleetingly gratified the more feminine parts of me might be when we pass in front of a mirror in a room with decent lighting (assuming they're even awake at the time). Perhaps this is still some variant of dysphoria or body dysmorphia, and perhaps some of it stems from me not feeling 100% male mentally, but an all-out MtF transition REALLY doesn't feel like the solution here, doubly so considering that I don't feel like a woman all that much, either...
Fundamentally, there's not much I can do about it, which sucks a lot. At least it feels nice interacting with my online friends, who have no preconceptions about the person who my body was previously and instead address me properly as Kyou, even during our in-person meet-ups.
Marcus Aurelius was right: Material existence is a dull, atrocious thing; and although I'll execute my duty as best I can for the time that I'm stuck here, I'll be more than happy to go when the time comes for it, that's for damn sure.
