I take a step out of the bathroom every day and what do I see?
The girl in the mirror again.
She's in a dress, faking a smile for the sake of her reputation. Sure, she liked how fluffy it was, but she was also attempting to cover her tracks. Denying the sickening feeling in her gut.
She'd done herself a disservice by telling her mum that she didn't want to be a girl. Her mum called her a liar.
I am the girl in the mirror, even though I don't want to be. Even though I try to pretend I'm not. Everyone refuses to see the boy that lives beneath my phantom skin, and it's saddening.
I throw myself onto my bed and stare at my room. The girly, sterile, whitewashed place I hope to leave behind when we move.
