Vultures circling overhead, doesn't mean the body is a corpse yet. I may be wounded, but if I was afraid of pain, I would never have transitioned. When fists were used to beat me, I absorbed their pain into me, making me stronger. The laughter aimed at me, callused my heart, protecting it from hurt. Evil words were thrown at me, each fortifying my resistance to them. Do I feel the fists, hear the laughter, hear the words still? Certainly. But they are only a nuisance, nothing but a bruise. It's healing will only make me stronger.