Trapped in the Wrong Body

Introduction

My name is not important. You probably wouldn't like it anyway. I tried to be original but it isn't that great. I'm sad. I'm sad because of many things. I'm in pain. My aching heart is heavy. Do you care? Probably not.

I wake up every morning 20 minutes before my bus is set to arrive. I begin getting dressed and cry. I cry because of my chest. My chest isn't flat, like it should be. I slide my binder over my chest and apply deodorant. I search for clothes to wear but sigh, because I've realized I'm out of clothes. I never realize when I'm out of clothes.

7 shirts and 3 pairs of jeans, one of them ripped.

I put on my cleanest shirt and brush my teeth. At 7:00, my bus arrives. Once I'm at school, I head to bag checks. Rarely does my heart jump out of my chest because someone says, "Thank you sir," once I'm cleared through bag checks.

Bag checks are a regular thing at my school now, since the incident.

I go to classes and am joyed when my friends address me correctly. I love my friends. Sometimes I feel alone, though. I'm surrounded by people, so I shouldn't feel alone, right? Well, I do. If that's wrong, then that only fuels the speculation that there is something wrong with me. It makes me fearful I will be alone forever.

What if I'm the type of father who feels a disconnect from my child because it isn't physically mine? I do not wish the pain of being unwanted on my child. I feel unwanted.

It is 12:40 AM on a now Wednesday morning, meaning I must attempt to sleep. I will write daily, and if readers come, I will publish daily. Today is a new day, and it will be better than yesterday. I am certain and very hopeful.