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I took another step in life.
Glorious and majestic steps ahead towered above me.
Pieces of my life lay behind on the steps below.
Maybe it was fear of the heights the steps ahead reached, nostalgia for the times I lived on lower steps or pride in my journey that made me turn and look back.
There below I saw precious possessions I loved that were too heavy to carry up this high.
My heart wanted to fetch them, my head knew my body could not carry them further.
My heart told me to descend and live with those old, faithful, trusted loves.
Suddenly the new, excitings things I had found high upon the journey of my life seemed like shallow, shiny tricks. Not honed, focused tools worthy of my love.
I thought with anger how fickle, weak and flawed these new things were. So delicate, so frustrating, so unfamiliar, so stupid.
Agony raged at what I had loved and lost and I began to descend hastily.
Then the old memories came back and I remembered the reasons I had discarded those things.
My run slowed to a stand.
I took a last look at possessions so far below me that soon they would vanish into mist, never to be seen again. So dearly loved, so many memories.
Discarded possessions closer to me, that I could see easily, I knew would remain alluring.
Tears flowed but my head and heart made me turn away and walk back to what was bright and new.
I like to wear bikinis.
I'd love to stand on a beach in a bikini, the sun warming my body.
I'd be proud to stand there, my breasts plain to see, bulging out my chest, covered by my bikini.
I'd be proud to show my crotch, smooth and without a bulge.
Yet the price is so high; hormones for life, blood tests, major surgeries, surgeries with high complication rates.
So I run from my desires. I bin my bikini, grow a beard and try whatever male distraction I think of.
But then I catch myself in the mirror, a balding man with a beard wearing a harsh, bitter expression and my heart breaks.
Where did that girl go?
I shave off my beard, I reach for a bikini and each time I die a little inside knowing my life is on repeat.
My soul made a pot of delicious tea and cake for my body. They talked about the good times, the skiing, mountain biking, scary moments, injuries my body had got. My body said he was sad he wasn't what my soul had wanted. That he had tried his best to provide fun and pleasure all the same. My soul was grateful and there was a sort of reunion despite their differences. My body confessed he was not as young as he once was and my soul said they understood. My soul asked my body if he could make one, large last effort. My body said he knew what it was and my soul felt unsure if to hurt this body that loved it