Real Boys Don't Cry

[UPDATE 30/5/2017: I've been pretty shit at updating this over the last year (sorry!!), however I promise I'll come back to this story at some point.]

The name Francesca felt like some kind of twisted joke to him. Being referred to as 'she' felt even worse. And his body made him feel sick.

Because it just wasn't his.

He wasn't Francesca - he was Frank (or, if he specifically said so, you could call him Frankie... But that was only reserved for really special people.)

And the one thing he wished for was to be happy in his own skin. But he knew that would take a long time.

*

This story follows a young transgender boy. I should mention that I am not transgender, I am a cis female, and obviously I know that I cannot fully understand the struggles that people who are trans face. This story is partly my way of showing support for those who are trans (including a couple of my closest friends) and partly me trying to work on my ability to write about issues that do not directly affect me (i.e. dysphoria and having parents who will not support you). If you are trans and something I say comes across as offensive, please know that it was not intended that way, and I am sorry. Leave a comment and I'll change or remove it as soon as I can.