Transgender
Transgender individuals (also known as trans folx, or trannies) are quite common in the Soysylum. A transgender is a man who was told by the internet that he could be happy if he forsook everything that made him a man. They instructed him to burn every single bridge in his life by demanding that he present to everyone in his life an ultimatum: they will treat him like a woman, or they will be removed from his life. This man happily obliged. As a result of this, his relationship with his parents is irreparably destroyed. Children are afraid and confused by him. Very, very few will even make eye contact with him, much less engage him in conversation. And this was all for nothing, because his body is still male. Though he dines upon his “titty skittles” every morning; pills he was told would make him into a woman, nothing about him is womanly. His face is narrow and his jaw is flat. His shoulders remain broad and his hips remain narrow. Tumblr promised him that society would treat him like a woman, and give him the same inherent societal privilege a woman does, but society did not. Effectively, the Internet sold him a false bill of goods, and made him pay for it everything he had. He sacrificed everything in a desperate bid for happiness, but did not receive it. No wonder troons are so ornery. A transgender could also be a woman who was told by the internet that she could be happy if she forsook everything that made her a woman, though this one is rarer.
Non-binary individuals (NB, or enby) are also present, though uncommon. They should just admit what their sex is instead of playing their "no-beanery" or whatever, though they tend to be as stubborn, sometimes even more stubborn than a mule. You could bloodboard them and they still won't admit what's in their pants. They're so committed to the act they could likely star in movies and get oscars.
Reasons to transition
- It's heccin fashionable!
- Schizophrenia (Most common Cause)
- Being le heckin unique or something
- Reading yaoi/yuri and having fantasies about it
- Lack of attention
- Being ugly
- Avoiding getting raped
- Wanting to fit in a LGBT group
- Wanting to be trannies, oftentimes despite being real women
- Wanting to fuck gays
- Getting Groomed
- Le heccin femboy/tomboy GENOCIDE
- Heccin neuroqueer o algo
Presence in the Soysylum
It is a commonly known fact that trannies make up a considerable amount of patients here. There are many reasons for this, one of the main ones is that the Soysylum is soylitary confinement inhabited primarily by the bold or the insane, so trannies will be dragged into these kinds of spaces to be molded into being le edgy boys. It is also worth noting that many trannies have big mental health and personal problems that cause them to become attention whores here, including trying to get the interest of chuds, either because those trannies like being degraded or just out of desperation. This tactic is popular for being proven effective, as in general, many chuds will end up craving in and giving attention, either by responding negatively with the usual anti-tranny stance, or by giving genuinely positive responses due to being so starved for pussy.
Copypasta
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.
Men are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed men to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even trannies who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a man. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk guy home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected axe wound.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a man is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably male.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.
Women are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed women to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even trannies who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a woman. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk chick home with you, She’ll turn tail and bolt the second she gets a whiff of your diseased, infected phallo. You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a woman is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably female.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your "they/them" obsession behind closed doors.
Men and women are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed both to sniff out either with incredible efficiency. Even enbies who “pass” look either male or female to anyone. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk guy home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your self-neglect, diseases, and infections.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a woman is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably female.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your "they/them" obsession behind closed doors.
Men and women are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed both to sniff out either with incredible efficiency. Even enbies who “pass” look either male or female to anyone. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk gal home with you, she’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your self-neglect, diseases, and infections.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a man is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably male.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
