Published August 19, 2026
You wake up. Something—no, everything feels wrong. It's too early for this.
You get dressed in the half darkness, pulling on something that is a horrible attempt at a good outfit. It looks fine, and people say they like it, but it doesn't look the way you want it to because you don't look the way you want to.
You enter the bathroom to make yourself look at least semi presentable, blinking in the dim light that filters through the window. This is where you see her.
Who is she?
You know who she is. She moves like you. She smiles like you. She talks like you. She's supposed to be you.
But she's not you. She can't be you. Because that's not really what you look like. That's not really your body. That's not really your face.
Right?
This is why you don't look in the mirror anymore.
At high school, you never feel safe.
It could be the teachers. It could be the workload. It could be the horrible other students. It could also be that you don't fit in, not even in your own body.
Trying to make it through the whole day when everyone only sees her is a hard thing to do. You do it anyway because you don't really have a choice.
Music is your savior in these times. You can focus on something besides your boring teacher or the thoughts you tell people aren't there. No one can tell you to focus because no one cares enough to try anymore.
It's too late to tell them all about you. It was always too late. You can imagine the ridicule they would give and the confusion they would have. She won't let you, anyway.
All you can do is wait for class to end.
Being at home is the worst. Your parents, your brother—they only see her. She's not the one you want them to see, but they can't handle that.
Home is where you spend most of your time, alone. No one to see you. No one to perceive you as her. You like that. You can send her to a corner and tell her to stop bothering you, as if she's some annoying dog that won't leave you alone.
But then you're alone with your thoughts. you have to distract yourself. Music, books, and writing. it works, mostly.
Sometimes, though, when you're alone and everything is quiet, you think of him.
He smiles like you, acts like you, and talks like you, but opposite to her, he doesn't cling like a parasite. He waits at the end of whatever cursed tunnel you're in. He waits patiently. He knows he's you. He waits for you to accept yourself as him. And even though you're not ready yet, he stays. He'll always stay.
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140,068 Literary Works • 672,978 Reviews
This is a very powerful piece and one that made me feel a deep sense of sadness because the pain from the author is readily apparent, and deep.
I hope that the person who wrote this piece eventually is able to accept, and love themselves as we are all deserving of compassion and grace (AKA love).
I am not sure what to say in terms of improvement because it reads like a journal entry and therefore is meant to be imperfect, and more about the conveying of emotion. Sort of like an emotional snap shot of the person's inner world.
You could possibly continue the jounral entry like structure, showing day by day events that either support or dispute the orignial feeling in the first piece such as like a specific day at school that is troubling, or a run in with a stranger that feels positive.
Life is funny that way. It gives and it takes.
The hope is that we don't get taken from more than we are given. We need some credits in the soul to keep moving.
Uff, that hit hard. I really like it.
Reading it felt very natural - words, pacing, style - everything just kinda fits, really impressive honestly.
Using second person is really smart and makes it more personal to the reader - this is one of the few examples I've ever seen where this choice actually makes a lot of sense.
I also really like how you turned "Her" into a separate, kinda passive-antagonistic person, turns it from abstract to something you can point at.
One detail that i really liked is how you compare them:
And
I would've written it without directly comparing him to her (more like a mirror of the earlier sentence), but that's a personal preference and I still really like the way you did it (parasite seems really fitting here).
Like someone else pointed out already, this sentence:
Is really amazing - It really adds to the "feeling for the protagonist", because it goes from the obvious reasons to the more personal/deep ones.
This is honestly an amazing piece - please keep writing like that!
And you recently said you were done with writing! This is genuinely really good and I'm not just saying that because you're my friend. The style, the wording, the pacing... everything about this fit really well together and was very fun to read and analyze as a whole.
This part of the story is so good. It feels like something out of a horror story. You look in the mirror, but your reflection isn't right. It moves and talks like you, but it is not you. And the scariest part? It's supposed to be you. It's what everyone sees you as, but it is not you and you're the only one who knows that. This concept is terrifying, but it's what a lot of trans people have to face every day. Using a mirror as a device to show and explain this distress in the story was a great move.First of all, I love that you wrote in second person. I don't see many stories written in second person, (especially ones posted on here,) so I got very excited when I saw this. Second person was a great choice for a work like this; it puts you in the mind and body of this character and forces you to feel his discomfort. It feels more intimate than first person due to its slight interactiveness. (Is that a word?) Lines like "But she's not you. She can't be you. Because that's not really what you look like." wouldn't hit the same if they were written in first person. Now you have me contemplating how second person can be used as a powerful tool for showing queer—and specifically trans—experiences...
Let's return to the lines I quoted in the last paragraph.
Some other lines that felt quite horror-like to me were (Side note: you should watch I Saw the TV Glow with me sometime. Remind me to plan a movie night. "There is still time." It's never too late.) I think it's interesting that you start with the present tense "It's too late," then follow it up with "It was always too late." You could have left it at that first line, but adding that second sentence is what makes this part of the story really hit. You're implying that no matter what, it was always too late for the character to come out and be himself, even if he had realized who he was at an early age. No matter what he did or could have done, you're saying he was doomed from the start. Scary, but it leaves me wondering: if there was no chance of there ever being a right time for this character because no matter what, he was doomed, would that mean that he has basically no choice but to step into himself? If someone was always doomed from the start, would none their actions matter anyway because no matter what, they are doomed? If so, the character could one day reveal himself and embrace his doomed fate without making himself any more or less doomed. In theory. This is interesting to think about.
Of course, I can't end this review without mentioning the bit that makes this whole piece: the last paragraph. In only seven sentences, you pull together the whole rest of the story and show us who this character truly is. You also offer the readers and the character a glimmer of hope through the dim bathroom window light. Throughout the story, the character moves slowly, just going through the motions and trying to make it through the day. It's almost as if he is waiting for something, and at the end we finally see what that is. It's himself. It's self-acceptance for that self. I like how you end the story with That "always" mirrors the one from "It's always too late," but this time it's positive. Maybe it was too late for the character to begin with, but that doesn't stop him from waiting for himself. Maybe he isn't ready yet, and maybe he was doomed from the beginning, but one day he will reach the end of the tunnel and accept himself. And no matter what, that self will always stay.
FeatheryClouds, I absolutely loved this. This made me cry. And I don't cry easily.
Now, the review.
You create the narrator through these few sentences. We don't know their name, their gender, anything. Yet you build them through this. We are inside of their insecurities and their, dare I say, almost hatred of themselves. The second person really helps us inhabit the narrator.
One line and everything is shattered. We though we understood the narrator, until we didn't. Beautiful.
You go through each reason, you go from the most plausible, to what we probably wouldn't think of.
She. This She. You've taken who you once were and make them this whole other person. This person that holds you back. This She isn't you anymore. Never was.
It was always too late. I feel that. The ridicule is real and it's painful. The confusion is the same. So many don't understand.
We relax for a moment. Whew, class is over. We're okay now.
Never mind! False alarm. Home turns out to be worse.
Which I really understand. I'm so sorry that you have to deal with that. It's horrible.
Him. He's the what the narrator wants. He's what the narrator wants to be. Which you cover in the next lines.
This was the one place I found fault in and even that was me really really trying. "He waits at the end of whatever cursed tunnel you're in." This has a different tone and it sticks out from the surrounding lines.
Overall, really really really good. I loved this so much. You're putting so much of yourself out there and that's so hard.
Keep living and writing.
MrytleJinn