Murphy

Getting Ready and Pauly

The birds are chirping! The sun is shining! The morning is so beau-- oh, that's right. I'm me and this is my life. Ha.

I jumped out of bed at 9-ish. I'd set my alarm for 8, but the sleeps always get me for at least a little while after that. I like to get the day started fairly early for a teenager, but that's because every moment spent out of the house is better than one spent in.

I'm always tempted to spend more time than I should in the shower. Everyone in this damn household must think that's when I like my happy time. But I just love the shower! If I know I'll have a nice warm shower waiting for me, it's infinitely easier to get out of bed. It's soothing, and it's the best feeling in the world to stand and ever so slightly sway under the water, turning the nozzle every so often, making the water just a little bit hotter, just a little bit hotter.

"Murphy!" Beatrice yelped, as she banged once, hard, on the door. I instantly jumped, pulled out of my relaxed state, and started turning the nozzle the other way.

I'll give my foster parents that. I should take shorter showers. I mean, there's a houseful of kids and I'm sure a water bill to pay mind to.

I carefully stepped out of the shower, grabbed the towel on the counter near the sink and wrapped it around me.

Shit, I've got to do my face quickly. Moisturizer, check. Shave? Nah. It's funny how hard it is for me to grow facial hair, I'm 16. Anyway -- dry my hair, check. Gel, check. Fabulous red-highlighted brunette quiff? Check.

Jesus, I wish it took as short a time as it did to just tell you that.

Next is the more fun part. I shuffle back to my room in my towel. What do I want to wear today? I wish I had a setup like Cher from Clueless, scrolling through my digital closet. But alas, I open my dresser.

My eyes jump to the t-shirts and tank tops first, 'tis the season. But then I remember my scarring. It's weird how when I go to sleep it's like all my worries are wiped away for that short period of time, then I wake up and have to be reminded of them throughout the morning.

I put on one of my floral-print sweaters, light denim shorts and my grey-pink Toms.

Accessorize? I like jewelry - sometimes I'll wear some silvery earrings or a necklace or something -- but I don't know if I'm feeling it today. No makeup either. I like some subtle eyeliner or eyeshadow every once in a while just to mix things up.

I know I'm a boy. I don't want to be a girl. But I like everything girly! I like bright colors, shiny stuff, pretty stuff. I guess you could say I'm a somewhat of a stereotype, but in all honesty, I don't really see it that way. The way I see it, I don't like feminine stuff because I'm gay, I happen to like feminine stuff and being gay gives me a sort of social license to be more feminine and get away with it. I personally think that if straight boys could wear makeup or indulge in a pink outfit every so often without anyone questioning their orientation or masculinity, I'm sure more would do it! I reject that there isn't a moment in everyone's life when they want to feel pretty. It just makes you feel good.

I'm suddenly excited about going out today. The way it usually works is that I develop a high at the point where I can't get any lower. That's what was happening now, I'm sure of it, but I don't care -- I'm grateful to have the bad stuff in the back of my mind when I'm in this state of mind.

I raced back to the bathroom to go out the bathroom's back door, almost bumping into Paulette. She's so small I didn't see her. Small for her age, too -- just like me. She's 8 years old but looks around 5 or 6. She seems to kind of cling to me; I think children are generally fascinated by anyone older-but-not-quite-adult-yet.