Honestly, I made a mistake — one that was foolish on the surface, yet could’ve escalated into something huge.
I was this close to being caught.
And I need to talk about it.

I was at home, peacefully walking around in women’s clothes — feeling safe, calm, me.
And then suddenly… I heard the sound of the front door unlocking.

Panic.

Luckily, I had remembered to lock the secondary latch. That small detail bought me a few extra seconds — just enough.
The moment the door opened, I rushed into the bathroom and shut the door.

I stood in front of the mirror.
And what I saw wasn’t just myself in a reflection.
I saw fear. I saw sorrow.
The sorrow of someone who still has to hide.
The fear of being found out — again.

What if they had seen me?
What would’ve happened?
I don’t even want to imagine it.
I’ve walked right up to that same terrifying edge more times than I can count.
And somehow, every time, I was pulled back.
By fate?
By sheer luck?
By Allah?

I don’t know.

There are pages and pages of thoughts I want to write about this.
But I don’t have the mental strength right now.
And honestly, I keep doubting whether it even matters.
Will writing really help? Will anyone really understand?

But what I do know is this: something has to change.

It’s time.
It’s time to stop living in fear.
It’s time to stop hiding.
It’s time to be free.
To live the life I deserve.

No more near-misses.
No more silence.
I just want to exist — without apology.