015/365 - How has your identity changed over time?

  ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 🪐　 ˚　.　　　　 　　.　　　　　　 ✦　　　.　　˚　🌒　　　　. ✦ 　🌍    

　.  　 　　　˚　　　　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　　˚ 　　　 　　˚　.*

How has your identity changed over time?🌑🌌

I believe I could take a long, star-strewn night to speak of this. This is a letter to my transition, to the winding paths I’ve been walking, to the shadows I've befriended and the constellations I’ve stitched across my own skin.

It’s also a quiet confrontation with something people have been calling me lately — “sensitive, adorable femboy.”
A label that doesn’t sit right with the galaxies within me.

It all began in the blurred dusk of childhood — when I was too much of a boy for the girls, and too much of a girl for the boys.
I floated between categories like moonlight slipping through closed blinds.
There was no place that fit, no form that felt like mine.
So I built a mask from pixels and admiration — from the intensity of characters who felt untouchable and strong.

I discovered Madara Uchiha.
I devoured his philosophy, his sorrow, his beauty wrapped in violence. He was my armor, my camouflage in a world that asked for sharp edges when all I had were blurred lines.
I clung to the name “Maddy” like a lifeline — a name that let me hide behind the smoke.
Behind it, my soul whispered, fragile and waiting.

But time, like starlight, reveals everything.
And now, I stand here — Jaden.
No longer masked.
No longer hiding behind a borrowed silhouette.

Like Obito shedding Tobi’s identity, I removed the layers one by one, until the core of me stood naked and luminous under the moonlight.
And what I found beneath wasn’t weak.
It wasn’t shameful.
It was mine.

Yes — I am transgender, genderfluid, alterhuman.
Yes — I am sensitive, intense, delicate — and I burn with an emotional gravity that can bend time.
I am in love with art, with decay, with the stars.
I would devour a dying sun if it meant tasting the divine.
I live half in this world, half in a dream of my own making.

And I love it.
I love me.

With every shifting phase, every name I try on like moon phases in the mirror, I grow.
And I am not ashamed of that growth.
I am sculpted by my shadows — and kissed by every night I spent crying and imagining something more.

Love yourself.
You have no idea how sweet the air tastes when you breathe in that kind of freedom.
When you no longer flinch at your own reflection.
When the universe inside your chest stops apologizing for shining too bright.

So here I am —
A boy forged of stardust and strange dreams.
Still learning.
Still becoming.

But finally, finally... mine.

🌌💜

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧

Thank you for reading till here… 💜