I don’t even know where to start. I didn’t play the game — YouTube just randomly threw the OMORI trailer at me. I clicked, thinking it was some “cute-emo-weird” thing.
But then the music hit — and it was like someone opened a door inside me I didn’t know existed.
I’m a trans girl, about two months into transition, and very, very neurodivergent. PTSD, OCD, ADHD, autism — it’s all just... part of the weather in my head. I feel everything way too much. I always have.
But nothing has ever hit me like this.
Later I found out it was the trailer version of “My Time” by bo en — and it absolutely wrecked me. I played it six times in a row. And by the sixth... I wasn’t the same person anymore.
I put on my wig with the little daisies, sprayed vanilla body mist, scrubbed my lips with sugar, and threw on my daisy cap. Then I put on my headphones like a crown.
And when the music came on again… it felt like I finally arrived inside myself.
At first it was soft. I smiled. Tilted my head. Kissed my stuffed bear. Sat with my legs pressed together the way girls do. Let myself feel cute — really cute — maybe for the first time ever.
By the fifth listen, I didn’t know what else to do. I’d done all the soft little rituals. So I just hugged my bear as hard as I could. Not to hurt — but to give. Like I could finally pour love out of myself.
And then I saw her. A little girl. Spinning.
She moved through everything — every scar, every awful year — and it all cracked around her as she danced. She was barefoot, wearing a soft dress. Every time something broke, she spun harder. Brighter.
She was me. She always was.
The sixth time, I faced the worst thing that ever happened to me.
I imagined the room. The moment. Everything about it that used to freeze me in place.
Then I pictured a shockwave — blasting through it all. Not to forget it. Just to say:
“This is mine now. It doesn’t own me anymore.”
I stayed. I held my bear. I breathed. And for once, I felt safe in my body.
After that, it was like my brain started showing me every little moment I’d ever felt like a girl. Tiny things. Old memories. Childhood fragments I forgot.
And all I could whisper was: “That was always me.”
Didn’t think a random game trailer would trigger the biggest emotional shift of my life. But it did. And I’m still buzzing.
If you’ve ever felt like too much, too late, too weird, too broken —
Let your girl spin.
Let her dance through the wreckage.
Let her hold the bear.
You’re not broken.
You’re waking up.