Like Buffy

It appeared to me that I was transgender roughly five months ago. I literally woke up with it, having previously been curious about what I’d look like as a girl. The first week was filled with so much joy. Pure. Like Leelah, I had discovered who I really was. It gave me the defining motivation to quit the unhealthy lifestyle that my depression and unrest had led me to. I then realized that these psychological problems were caused by my gender dysphoria, because they subsided significantly once I found out.
It felt more like a secret every day I didn’t tell my family. There’s a lot of fear involved. But any doubt I’ve had comes right back to my destructive tendency to take the easy way out. I reason, cisgender people don’t usually ask this question of themselves. So if I hate my own sex, well then, I am transgender indeed.
Gradually my past made all the sense in the world. I remembered having a strong desire to become a girl in the previous three years, but recalled I had waved it away as wishful thinking. I was aware that I would’ve been better off as one, but my mind wouldn’t let me go beyond that.
I just turned 23. I’m determined to face my 24th birthday as a girl. Since the waiting period in Norway has tortured me to the point of having my own suicidal ideations, I can’t wait to start HRT. So I can become the one I’ve locked away for years. So I’m not restrained to or hiding in the body I’m supposed to live in. Whatever the consequences, there’s no way I’m not doing this.
I just wanna be a girl already. Like Buffy ._.