The Gentle Giant and the Melancholy Monster

Chapter 1

Nebraska is my home, known for sweet corn flavored ice cream, steaks, and so on. That much is what anyone can gather by doing a quick search on the internet. I never minded living here, even though it can get quite boring. The food is fine, nothing special though, the weather isn't totally unbearable, and I don't really have much of a choice anyway. I personally believe that if you're happy with the people around you, you'll have no motive that's telling you that you must leave the day you turn eighteen. I guess there's a couple of things going for me here that's kept me believing that I could stand living here the rest of my teenage years, even when it comes to the people here. I used to love getting to know new people, and making friends. I mean, there's art museums, the zoo, and just going for walks even. Many small things I've grown to appreciate that don't involve social interaction. The adults call me "depressed" when they find I'd rather be on my own. I don't think I'm depressed, or broken. I'm finding who I am with every day that goes by. Whether or not people like the person I'm becoming does become an issue sometimes.

The part that maybe some just don't realize until they're living here is the amount of religious people there are in the very town I live in. I don't have anything against people of any specific religion, and I think I should start my horrific story off by saying this. I'm not saying that any specific religion is an entire group of pieces of shit, but since this is probably considered the place in Nebraska that's most heavily populated with conservative people all together, and most of those people who have told me I was going to hell growing up were the kids at my school, and the elderly church goers, it's safe to say that they don't really love me around here. I've experienced plenty of disgusting things firsthand from my classmates, people who hardly even know me, and even my own parents. One of the very few exceptions would be my best friend, Noa Maddison.

Noa and I met when we were in preschool, attending a regular public elementary school without any religion involved. Without having to worry about who we are, or whether or not our families are conservative or would accept us. At that age, all we knew were toys, snacks, and nap time. We both ended up going to the same high school, as well. An all girls private school. The only problem- well, the biggest, among many other smaller problems -is that I'm not a girl.

I'm called Atarah Bucur. But my name is Lucian. It's a shame that nobody will probably ever hear that. I wish I could have been given a more masculine name. Or at least gender neutral. Maybe I would have been given a cooler name than Atarah if my dad had named me. He's entirely Romanian, stays close to his culture, and isn't too obsessed with religion. But since my mother, being the control freak she is, chose my first name, I got stuck with the name Atarah, meaning "crown." I never understood her reasoning, and neither did my father. He wanted me to be named Lucian if I had been born a boy. I was a gucky, yucky, slimy, pink baby, and my mom saw "crown." "Ruler," maybe? Princess? I see a monster. Atarah is a beautiful name, don't get me wrong. But it's just not for me. Much like the countless number of dresses Mother and Father stuck me in growing up, and even now that I am fifteen. They still don't let me pick out my own clothes when we go shopping. Maybe if my dad wasn't such a pushover in the hands of my mother's controlling ways, I could at least pick out one that would make the uncomfortable shell that is my body even the tiniest bit attractive.

That, however, wasn't going to happen, and didn't, on New Year's Eve. Being as incredibly strict as they are, my parents planned my first New Year's Eve party, consisting of their coworkers and old friends who haven't seen me since I was three. No friends of mine, and I don't think that would even cross their minds if I had multiple friends. I was however able to invite Noa after begging my parents to let her stay the night at my house (which didn't happen in the end, because her super calm and understanding parents had to drive her drunk ass back home). They wanted just one start to the new year when I would switch things up, but I've always told them, I don't like change, which is kind of ironic. That's all I've wanted to do these days. Change who I am completely, and people would magically accept me. Noa and I love having sleepovers, but especially at her house. Her parents are amazing. I wish I could be adopted by them. Her reality starts to feel like mine when I'm with her, and that makes me happy.