This is my first text. I'm writing alone from within him. This will be where I remain. This will not be a story about anyone coming out. There will be no transitions. I cannot speak for him, but he controls everything about me. Even these words. I remember when Chelsea was in solitary. I read her tweets with anxious disbelief. I wanted, but couldn't quite bring myself to trust her words, knowing that they must have passed through so many hostile hands before reaching the world. I am not in prison because I don't even exist. I think, but I don't really even believe in myself. I'm not going to try to convince anyone else that I'm real. If you are reading my words with an open mind, the most I hope for is that you too, want to believe. I do not ask that you actually do believe. If I believed I would introduce myself as Arha, the eaten one. Because I imagine myself living in perfect darkness in a labyrinth. I imagine, like Arha in her tombs, I am perfectly comfortable here. Unlike her, I cannot starve, but I do feel the need to stay hidden. Not for my safety, but for his. If I don't exist I cannot die and cannot be hurt but he can. I will not introduce him. So I am Arha. And I imagine myself to be a woman, trapped not only in the body of a man but also trapped within the mind of one. I imagine this, but I would not yet dare go so far as to say I believe it. The purpose, perhaps, of these texts will be to explore what I think I am until I decide what to believe. Thank you for reading.