Confessions of a transgender - LGBT Fiction

I miss them

I miss my parents. I miss them so much. I miss my big brother too. Sometimes I wish I could go back to them. I wish it so hard... Even dream of it at night. But every time when I wake up, I'm still... Me. And they made very clear that I couldn't come back as myself. The little Natacha they love isn't me anymore. Actually, I don't know if I was ever Natacha. Which means that my family never loved ME. It's an horrible thought. It's true though... The love of my family for me was as fake as I used to be when I lived as a girl. I feel like we all played "pretend" for a very long time. It's an awful feeling.

I don't know why I'm saying this. I loved them. Hell, I still do. I love them. I haven't seen them for three damn years, but still I would do anything for them. We might have been fakes, but we were happy. Our happiness wasn't fake. No, I don't think it was. The feelings you've got when you're dreaming are still feelings after all, right? And I'm the one who ruined it all, by waking them up an telling the truth. My family is broken because of me. And I know what all my friends and even my psychologist are saying. That it wasn't my fault. Yes, I know. But still, FACTS are FACTS. My family was happy once, and now they're not because of what I am. I couldn't have done anything about it, except not existing. My family would still be happy if I were never born. If that "Natacha" they wanted so much were born instead of me. It's an horrible thought, but it's true. I know it's true. I'm the one who messed things up in the perfect family they had built. Somehow I can understand why they're so mad at me. Somehow, I understand. And I'm so sorry but there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I'm done apologizing for being born, for existing, for having feelings... And yet, I do love them.
I love them because they ARE my family, despite everything they've done to me, despite everything I've done to them. We share our blood. We are the same, and whether they want it or not, we're stick with each others for life. Before my coming out, when we were still happy, I used to love the fact that I could see them in the mirror every time I looked at my own face. I have my father's face, my brother's smile, my mother's eyes and expression... The gestures I have, the intonations of my voice, the smile in my eyes when I laugh... All of this is theirs too. I can see them in me every day, I carry them with me when I go into the world. I used to love that, this undeniable alikeness that pointed us as a family for everyone else to see. But now, now... It only reminds me of how I screwed things up beyond repairs. It makes me wonder: what if I were wrong after all? What if they were right, what if I am the freak they say I am? Me being what I am have only hurt people so far, myself included. Isn't it how you know that you're wrong? When you hurt people? What if I was crazy indeed?

And yet... I know none of this make sense. Because nothing of what I ever did felt wrong. On the contrary, it felt so right. So right. Like I was finally set free after all these years. My psychologist says that you always try to find excuses for your loved ones who did wrong by you. Blaming myself is the only excuse I found for them giving up on me when I needed them the most. A part of me still believes that I was responsible for what happened to us. I don't think I'll ever stop blaming myself for it. I just wish we could make things right together. But I don't think we can.

My parents never contacted me during the past three years. Nor did my big brother. I used to admire him so much. We were very close... I really thought he would accept me the way I was. But he said nothing that night. Did nothing while my mother was leading me through the corridor to put me out of our house. And he never talked to me ever again after that night.

I'm just a fool. This is beyond repair. Have they moved on? Is it possible? Don't they think about me sometimes? Could they really erase me from their lives like a shameful mistake?
I sent them an email six months ago. It was just after my operation. I wanted them to be able to recognize me if they crossed me in the street. I've changed so much. Even if they were still grieving their Natacha, I asked them if they might want to meet Nathan now. I was hoping so much they would agree. I waited for days.
They never answered.

Maybe I should try again.