(i ripped this off wikipedia real fast so sorry if it's lib)
In October 1776, the Public Universal Friend contracted an epidemic disease and was bedridden and near death with a high fever. Their family summoned a doctor from Attleboro, six miles away, and neighbors kept up a death-watch at night. The fever broke after several days. The Friend later reported that [deadname redacted] had died, receiving revelations from God through two archangels who proclaimed there was "Room, Room, Room, in the many Mansions of eternal glory for Thee and for everyone". The Friend further said that [deadname redacted]'s soul had ascended to heaven and the body had been reanimated with a new spirit charged by God with preaching his word, that of the "Publick Universal Friend", describing that name in the words of Isaiah 62:2 as "a new name which the mouth of the Lord hath named".
From that time on, the Friend refused to answer to their deadname, ignoring or chastising those who insisted on using it. When visitors asked if it was the name of the person they were addressing, the Friend simply quoted Luke 23:3 ("thou sayest it"). Identifying as neither male nor female, the Friend asked not to be referred to with gendered pronouns. Followers respected these wishes; they referred only to "the Public Universal Friend" or short forms such as "the Friend" or "P.U.F.", and many avoided gender-specific pronouns even in private diaries. When someone asked if the Friend was male or female, the preacher replied "I am that I am", saying the same thing to a man who criticized the Friend's manner of dress (adding, in the latter case, "there is nothing indecent or improper in my dress or appearance; I am not accountable to mortals").
editorial note: I think this is a very cool story and I really love hearing it. We've been around forever and we've been doing variations of this forever. It's really beautiful
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This ended up being a lot tbh
dysphoria, suicide
It feels like my habits are etched in stone. I just keep recreating the same situation where I have needs and I can't speak on them, I'm scared to ask questions, I don't know people as well so I keep to myself. I feel like any amount of space I take up is too much for people.
Sometimes I feel like Girl Me is growing, deep inside, and Boy Me is rotting and watching his flesh turn rancid. Girl Me wants to claw her way out, and Boy Me is desperate to retreat back in. Part of me wants to begin and part of me wants to end.
I feel like I'm trapped on rails, and heading straight toward a cliff. And nobody sees that I'm trapped. In fact, they're cheering as the traincar finally careens off the edge. And for a second, that feels like attention. That feels like love. Something that I did got someone to feel, if just for a moment.
I am constantly fighting my own thoughts and everyone just thinks I'm quiet and aloof when I'm actually fucking trapped in my head. If I say words out loud, congrats, because those words had to conquer an entire 128 team bracket in order for me to actually say them.
I don't know if I have social instincts. Like, I don't know. Maybe people perceive me, evolutionarily, as a stump or small hill or something because I'm too introverted or neurodivergent or gay or something. Idk.