He Said. She Said. I Said.

HE SAID. SHE SAID. I SAID.

I am Joey. An ordinary man living an extraordinary life, and these are my memories, my journeys. The story of a boy who was born and the girl who died so that a man could live.

I was 19. The club was called C8. She [my gf at the time] and I danced like no one was watching. I was learning to come to terms with the only other sexuality I assumed I must be part of, lesbian. Right? I mean born female, attracted to women, the pieces were there. The "proof". Every lesbian must feel they were supposed to be born boys, like me.

WHY DOESN'T THIS FEEL RIGHT?!?! He screamed from inside me. Everyday. Since I was 5. But I could not listen.

Then, amid the music, someone tapped me on the chest. She was nodding at me and pointing at my shirt, but the music was so loud I couldn't ask why.

She reminded me of a young boy. Her hair was short with long, neatly placed spikes. Her clothes were baggy and masculine. Maybe she feels the same way I do? Makes sense, after all she presented male in my eyes but was still, physically female. I would later realize that there was so much I was to discover about myself and an incredibly complex world around me. That the pain and confusion I still felt and struggled with would be triggered and intensified by this one, chance meeting with a human I would come to cherish as my friend even to this day.

Months later, I would be almost 20. "Have you ever felt like you were born in the wrong body?" She asked, my friend, the girl from the club. My heart stopped. How could she know that? And who else knew? I searched everywhere for something to say, "Doesn't...every lesbian feel that way?" I could see immediately that this was not the case. She asked me a few other questions but then at some point, she said it. “Transgender.” I froze. His heart began to race, "stop it." I said to him. But I couldn't stop. I NEEDED to know. Over the next few months, I would question everything I had grown up to believe. Everything. Even my existence. At the same time, I would wrestle with the greatest thing (aside from myself) that held me captive to this prison inside. Losing my family.

I found it. I found him. I found me. "FINALLY!!" I could feel his adrenaline rushing and pulsing thru my entire body just waiting to be released. I felt real. And. It. Felt. Incredible. But at what cost? Was it enough to say goodbye? Forever? It had to be. Or else saying goodbye would not be an option. And forever would-be Heaven...or Hell.

She had grown tired of fighting. Of pretending. Of hiding. Of living. What was the point? Destiny was damnation anyway. She could say goodbye. She could. But he didn't let her. He couldn’t. Because without her, there could be no him. No, me. And I was not saying goodbye. I wouldn't. I couldn't.

I'm Joey. And this is my story.