memo isn't sure what he is, exactly. a bird or a human or some sort of feline. he knows for sure that he has wings, but what else, exactly? he's unsure of himself and the world and everything. his name and his gender and even his species.
he blinks at the computer, doing absolutely nothing and awaiting a response to his message to mei. he often talks to mei about a lot of things; art and identities and feelings and games and just everything, really.
memo - or melissa or cory or whoever he is - rubs the bridge of his nose. his wings are acting up again, more obvious than normal, but he still doesn't truly feel less or more than human.
he doesn't feel like anything, sometimes.
YOU ARE READING
gender-confused girls who like male pronouns, i.e. the story of me
No FicciónA probably-complete story (or collection of short stories, perhaps) about my search for an identity. First story was written with multiple different pronouns to figure out which one I felt fit me best.
