my greatest fear is disappointing you,
making life more difficult for you than i already have.
you've given me everything since i can remember,
more than what i deserve,
and i am eternally grateful for all you've ever done for me.
but i need to tell you something,
something that might ruin everything,
something that i fear you really won't like.
after all, you've always told me you always wanted a daughter.
that when you had me,
it was the happiest day of your life.
it hurts to think that my identity
can put all the hopes you ever had for me at risk.
all you've ever wanted...
jeopardized by the fact that i'm not a girl at all.
and i am so sorry that i'm not
really what you have always wanted,
that i can never be that for you,
at least not on the inside.
because i can't help being what i am,
and i only wish i could be what you want,
or that you could somehow read my mind
and accept me without me having to speak a single word.
in any case, i want you to know that i love you
more than anything else in the world.
you're a great mom.
you've always been a great mom.
i wish i could be the daughter you think i am,
the daughter you're so proud of,
the daughter you love so much.
but i'm not.
and these things i'll never say
will always be a testament to that.