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Her face turned serious for a moment; she looked away, trying not to reveal her anxiety, but the tension was there, even through the screen.
— "I thought I could keep going, but writing about things that knock you out of your own reality… It’s kind of… strange. My stories… It’s like they’re now mocking me, you know? And what I’m thinking about now… I don’t even know if it’d be useful or interesting to you, honestly. So… I don’t know.”
She looked at the camera again, as if checking how her words had landed, and for a moment her gaze turned sharper, even bitter.
— "And to be honest, this whole life… here, in Russia, right now… I think you’re all aware of this crap… I used to be scared to say I’m from Russia, but now… what does it even matter, right? But I don’t want to dig into the politics and how much all of it was already getting on my nerves even before this… transformation… And, hell, there’s the paperwork. It’s clear I’ll be dealing with issues soon. Right now, on paper, I’m a person who… doesn’t exist anymore. Well, exists, but doesn’t… So go explain who you are. And if I tell them I’m a guy, would anyone believe it? They’d look at me like I’m out of my mind.” — She falls silent for a moment, realizing how absurd it all sounds. — "In our country right now, with all this noise around traditional values, bans on gender transition, on anything LGBT… Confide in someone, and they’ll just think I’m… well, you know what I mean. And it would only add more problems for me, none of them funny… So I have to keep quiet."
She shifted a little in her chair, trying to change the topic.
— "And… going outside is another story, let me tell you.” — She gave a nervous smile. — “You go out, thinking, ‘I’m dressed in men’s clothes, trying to look as neutral as possible, to blend in.’ You’re walking along, and suddenly someone’s like, ‘Hey, beautiful, maybe a coffee?’ Damn… it’s not even a compliment! When I used to try picking up girls, I put some effort into it, but this guy… turns out there are just idiots everywhere, and I wasn’t even trying to look… damn it, I don’t want to think about it.”
She paused, nervously tapping her fingers on her hand, then continued quietly:
— "And then there’s this ‘miss’ thing constantly. ‘Excuse me, miss.’ ‘Go ahead, miss.’ Sometimes even in the store, they address me that way. People didn’t often say ‘excuse me, sir’ to me before, so why say it now? It’s like they’re pointing right at me with this ‘miss’! I used to laugh at these things in my stories, about characters getting a taste of daily life as a woman, but it’s one thing to write about it happening to someone else, and another to go through it yourself when you want no one approaching you or smiling at you. It’s… creepy. Really creepy. And, oddly enough, even women approach me. They talk. And they say… things that sound like life lessons. Like I should be more feminine, or wonder why I’m dressed like a slob or something…”