Let's skip the preamble and get to the point. HRT began on 12 March 2026, and I'll treat this essay as an account I owe myself: a look back at the memories about gender from these twenty-two years, and an attempt to explain why thoughts that appeared so early only became action now.
At first I wanted to write a proof of HRT's feasibility and legitimacy, complete with a chain of evidence, causes, and a conclusion, so that once I read it I could start a new life with a clear conscience. But as I wrote, I realized I was turning my own life into an exam again: even wanting to live a certain way required proving I deserved it. Well, this essay probably won't provide an airtight answer. All I can do is write down what I remember and leave it for the present and future me.
Starting from “boys must be strong”
Let's begin before puberty. In primary school I was thin, weak, sensitive, and cried easily. I didn't like roughhousing with the boys. Later I was bullied at school, and crying didn't bring comfort—only more mockery, and adults repeating that “boys must be strong.” Back then I didn't understand gender identity; I only knew I never seemed to match what people expected from a boy.
But crying easily doesn't make someone a girl, and being quiet doesn't either. Drawing, origami, science fiction, novels—none of these have a gender. Looking back now, I don't want to cram every difference from my childhood into the answer “so I was trans.” What I felt more clearly then was: I was miserable, but even my misery had to be handled like a boy's—no crying, no vulnerability, and preferably no trouble for anyone else.
In middle school, studying gradually took over most of my life. I liked geography, drawing maps on paper, drawing, and novels. I didn't have a phone, so I knew nothing about most of what my classmates discussed; I just kept studying. Good grades at least earned me some recognition and let me stop wondering why I didn't fit in. What I liked, who I wanted to become—all of that could wait until later.
The me who wanted to be a girl
In high school, “wanting to be a girl” became a wish I could recognize. I preferred the humanities, but chose science at my parents' request. I fangirled over male celebrities with the girls in my class, and I fantasized about becoming a girl and marrying him. Writing that now is a little embarrassing, but that's really what I thought; there's no need to edit the answer for my past self (laughs).
Those interests don't prove anything by themselves. What matters more to me is the “me” inside the fantasy: I naturally placed myself in the girl's position, and I began to hate facial hair, to hate my body continuing to change in a masculine direction. But I didn't have enough knowledge to understand those feelings, still less room to explore them.
In those years the most important thing was always studying. The college entrance exam, grades, my parents' expectations, and depression that grew harder to bear—life was packed full. The route I planned was simple: get into university, leave this environment first, and deal with the rest once I was there. Gender could wait, hobbies could wait, happiness could wait. Once I reached university, everything would surely get better.
So I had already said it
Then I entered university, finally had my own phone and computer, and could finally reach a world I hadn't known. I started playing games and watching anime, trying to find common ground with the boys. Some of that was an effort to fit in, and some was genuine novelty and joy; just because I have a new explanation now doesn't mean everything I liked then was fake. Anime and games really did carry me through some very hard days, and I still remember that.
But the question of gender didn't disappear along with my new life.
Looking back at a chat from 6 May 2022, I had already told a friend: “I just feel like my gender identity leans female.” I said girls could cry, wear all kinds of clothes, act cute, and look pretty. In another chat, a friend noticed I had changed the gender in my profile and asked if I wanted to be a girl. I answered: “Yeah I do,” “Why not,” and later, “I really envy you.”
Seeing those records feels strange. So the me back then had already said it so directly, while the me a few years later was still doubting whether all of this was just a sudden recent idea.
Of course, my understanding of girls' lives was limited then, and full of imagination. Girls are also told to be strong and are also constrained; becoming a girl doesn't automatically grant a gentle world. But at least those chats left one thing I can be certain of: long before starting HRT, I had seriously longed for a female identity, and I had tried to let someone else know.
Later, in games, I loved playing female characters. Sometimes I liked the character herself; sometimes I thought about how wonderful it would be to be a girl like that. Clothes, appearance, and identity that were hard to try in reality could be temporarily possessed on screen. With anime, I was drawn more easily to stories about a few girls, and to works that made me cry and made me feel understood.
Those experiences matter to me, but I don't want to invent a rule that “what you play defines your gender.” After all, I also like building infrastructure, study mechanics seriously, and get furious when I can't beat a stage. Girls can do these things too; liking them doesn't turn me back into a boy. There's really no need to put my game library on trial.
When the wish became concrete
By my senior year, the wishes to grow my hair long, wear women's clothes, and cosplay became more concrete, and my discomfort with body hair and male secondary sex characteristics grew harder to ignore. In a 2025 record I wrote again that I wanted to be a girl, and mentioned that I'd had MTF thoughts since my first year. But there were too many practical problems, and I was still used to putting this off.
It wasn't until I took a leave from my first year of graduate school because of depression that the progress bar of my studies was finally forced to pause, and I began to have time to face myself seriously. Later, leaving home and living alone gave me some room to try. Things that had existed only in chats and fantasies could finally enter reality: buying clothes, growing my hair, trying a new look, imagining myself interacting with others as a woman.
That was also when it became harder and harder to keep pretending that this was a problem I could shelve forever.
Why I acted only now
Now let's talk about the so-called “delay.” Why so late? Why only start HRT at twenty-two?
Before the college entrance exam, both information and living space were limited. I had no real channel for understanding trans people, let alone how these feelings could be expressed and discussed. Even when I thought I might be a girl, my first instinct was to wonder whether something was wrong with me, then push the thought back down. Add academic and family pressure, and I could barely handle the life in front of me—where would I find the energy for something that might change my whole life?
After the exam I encountered more information and spoke about how I felt, but knowing, admitting, and acting are still separated by a long road. Body changes, family attitudes, money, school, other people's eyes—each one was concrete. I would envy, fantasize, change my gender to female online, and then go on living the same way the next day. The old life was painful, but at least it was familiar.
Games and anime gave me a buffer. Staying in my dorm could temporarily reduce the times I was seen as a boy in real life. But a buffer can't make every decision for me. Those questions stayed there, and only when the other voices finally grew quieter could I hear what I was really thinking.
So starting at twenty-two doesn't mean the feelings first appeared at twenty-two. The me of 2022 had already left an answer; I just didn't know how to make that “yeah I do” land in real life.
As for the relationship between depression, childhood experience, and gender identity, I still can't offer an explanation that covers everything. Being bullied and told to be strong really did shape how I understood being a man; academic pressure and family relationships have kept affecting my mood. But I can still take my longing for a female identity and body seriously, without solving every cause-and-effect problem in my life first.
To the me of now
Twenty-two already. I still regret, still wonder: if I'd known in middle school, if I'd dared to try at eighteen, if someone had told me earlier that another life was possible—would I have taken fewer detours?
But time doesn't flow backwards!!! There are no parallel universes!!!
And even if I could go back, how many choices did that me—without a phone, without money, facing my parents and the college entrance exam—really have? The me of now knows more and finally has a little room to act. I can't use the conditions I have now to blame my past self for not doing it sooner.
On 12 March 2026, I started HRT.
There are still many questions ahead, and I will still doubt, fear, and reconsider my choices. This preface records the me of this moment and why I came here. When I read it again later, I hope I remember that the wish at the beginning was simple: I wanted a body that fit me better, wanted to live as a woman, wanted “becoming myself” to finally take on a little shape in reality.
I have already worked for a long time for the college entrance exam, graduate school, and the so-called correct path in life. Next, I want to try for my own life too.
As for the years I missed, I'll say goodbye to them slowly. The world's scroll hasn't fully unrolled yet, and the future has more than one road.
It's finally my turn, meow.