You're so fucking selfish, Lydia.

These are the words that are going through my head right now, the words that have spurred my tear-soaked fingers to tap out harshly on my laptop keyboard with little regard for what I should probably do to mend my damaged psyche.

I thought I was safe.

I thought, now Moony was gone, I'd had the worst of my day. I tiptoed around the house like a common criminal, trying to avoid my parents so that I wouldn't have to talk about my name, about the letter I left on Saturday, about how I legally changed it without their permission, the first thing I've really done against their wishes, ever. I thought I'd be allowed to go about my business, because as they keep reminding me, 'you're just going to do what you want, anyway'.

But a short while ago, I was called downstairs. I was feeling good, I'd changed my name at my dentist after a visit there, and I felt fucking proud of myself. I'd do anything to feel that again.

They begged me not to go into treatment. They are so sure that I might regret it, that I should be happy just announcing myself as Lorcan and presenting as male. Even though they won't call me it.

The only times I've ever heard them say my name are when I've been crying because they don't understand.

My mother broke down. She started sobbing, right there in front of me, and I couldn't even apologise, because I'm sure I'm doing the right thing, and what's necessary is never unwise, as Spock taught me.

I made my dad cry.

I feel like I've just told them I'm dead.

I might as well be, the way they reacted.

The daughter they knew, I'm certain that was not me. Just because I was a happy kid, just because I liked pink, because I love dressing up, because I wasn't 'gifted' with impressive breasts, it doesn't mean I'm making this up. That's a sexist, patriarchal stereotype that doesn't allow me to accurate express myself how I feel I should.

I'm not convincing myself, I haven't been convincing myself that 'she' is something to shy away from, for two years.

Just because I don't want lower surgery doesn't make me 'half and half', it doesn't mean I'm not serious, and I'm not forced to have surgery if I don't want it, just because I'm trans*, because nobody but Moony will see if I have a cock or not. And I do, it's down the side of my bed. But they don't need to know that.

It isn't true that I'm selfish. That I'm doing this before I change my mind because I don't want to be wrong. Well, kind of. I don't know any more.

I have no idea who I am any more.

When my mum thinks of my name, my given name, she cries. Because she isn't allowed to call me it any more.

'Imagine being a mother, giving your beautiful daughter a name only to find out seventeen years later that they, still a child, have decided it isn't good enough for them. Imagine that. Why couldn't you keep your middle name? You're so selfish, you didn't even tell us for three months, because you only think of yourself.'

'I raised you on comics, on fantasy, because I hate that kids are taught to repress their imagination. I honestly believe there's something in it. But you've never been happier than when you're dressed as Spock, and I'm seriously worried about you. No, you're not in your right mind, are you?'

'You say want and like but I feel like if you really need this, you should be at the end of your tethers, you should be unable to go on without it. I believe you get dealt a deck of cards when you're born and that's the hand you play. If you're born poor and you're going to always be poor, or if you're born rich and always going to be rich. But to go against that is just bullshit.'

I'm not selfish. I'm one of the least selfish people I know. I held off for three months because I didn't want to upset them. Because I'm terrified of conflict and it's easy to make me do anything because I don't want anyone near me to be unhappy. Even if I end up worse off. I am not selfish. Maybe if I say it enough times, I'll believe it.

I can hear my dad laughing about something now. Fireworks just went off outside my window. The world is still going, with or without my own happiness. But I'm sat in my room, in the dark, still crying. One hour later.

I've never been one for self-harming. I've been fascinated by the idea that people would feel the need, but I've never understood it. Right now, though, if I could feel anything that wasn't crippling, nauseating grief and guilt, I'd happily trade it for physical pain. Because that will go away. That's literal and logical.

Spock cries when Jim is dying in the warp core part of the ship in Star Trek: Into Darkness. If this is a spoiler, and you've still not seen it all this time later, tough shit.

Jim asks how to block his emotions because he's scared, and Spock replies that he does not know, and right now he is failing. I get that. I've been doing good all day. I only cried a little when I saw Moony off, but I was smiling. Now, I'm at my lowest.

'And you didn't even ask us before deciding you're going off to Sweden with your friend for Christmas, for the last Christmas we'll have together as a family because you'd rather be there.'

Surely that's no surprise, when being in the same room as my parents does this to me.

'Your teacher, Ralph,he said when we were in the pub, you must have been about 13, he said hang onto this, because you lose them. About 15, you lose touch. And you don't get them back until they're in their twenties. And we thought that's all that was happening. We have you space, gave you room to do your own thing. But we don't want to lose you to this.'

I wanted to get work done tonight. I wanted to get back into it. But I can't now. I can't concentrate on anything. I can't watch Dredd because I just remember how my dad feels his influence is what led to this, I can't watch Peter Pan because it reminds me how I'm just a kid, how I could be making the wrong choice. I don't know what to do with my evening, with my time, with anything.

They go on about how I shouldn't be doing this at a crucial part of my life where education should be my only concern.

I was fine. I knew where my life was headed, my transition was going alright. All this drama, this is what I get hung up on. If they could totally support me instead of asking me to meet them halfway, to forego treatment, maybe then I could get the grades I need. Instead, I'm crying over their misunderstanding and yet another in a long line of complete breakdowns because I don't know who I am.

No name fits me, because I feel like I deserve neither of them.

'What kind of a name is that, anyway? It's stupid, is it a character, does it mean something? As your parents, we had the right to go through and pick one, we considered giving you a middle name so you could drop your first if you wanted to and still be a girl or a boy. We didn't just decide 'oh, that one will do'.'

Then why the fuck didn't they. Have they any idea how much that would have fixed? No, I got 'star' instead. And while neutral, it's not a name. Sobbing, I explained that I'm not trying to spite either of them. I didn't meant to upset anyone. That wasn't my intention. I didn't want them to cry, I didn't want them to lose so many tears over this. My given name is beautiful. I like it. We're considering naming our daughter it, if we don't have a son. It's nice, but it isn't mine. I am my own person, I can choose the name I want, that's not their job.

I feel like I'm going in circles and I don't know which way is up. I feel like I'm sinking and my face is raw.

I feel like I'd like to leave the country forever. Or maybe just Dorset. I want to run, and never look back. I want to get out, I want to know what the fuck I'm supposed to be doing. Because this is a big thing in my life, and I was so sure. I was so sure. And now I don't even know what gender I want to be called, I can't even look at myself, I hate everything connected to me.

If they'd just said 'great, sure, Lorc, whatever makes you happy' we'd be okay. Or 'no, you're not getting our blessing, this is a stupid idea'. Instead, they're saying we have to get to know each other again and I have to promise to wait with hormones until I'm in my twenties.

But just imagining waiting that long, it's killing me.

But. What if that's just my fucked up head saying that because I convinced myself that my gender is wrong, that 'she' is not who I am, that I want to be someone else. What if I'm just trying to hold off on being an adult by any means possible. What if my mind hasn't developed properly and later on I'll be so confused and angry that nobody stopped me.

What if I'm right, and this is what I need, what I honestly truly need, and I wasted three years trying desperately to be recognised as male when my face is female and my hips are female and my binder messes up my back, and I have a further two years until I get hormones, by which point I'll be bitter about waiting.

What if I just didn't give being a woman a chance, regardless of how the idea makes me cringe, how I feel so uncomfortable at the thought that I think I'm going to be sick.

By the time I even get hormones, I'll be 20. But that isn't enough.

Chase, on youtube, talks about how nobody in the trans* community, or anywhere, talks about mental health, because it's taboo and if you're trans* with mental health issues it's always traced back to your gender issues. So this was me, talking about my issues.

I don't know what to do.