When people see me, they tend to freak out. Its not that I look unusual or strange, they just find me…different, I guess. By different I mean a special kind of different. I know how you’re picturing me right now; some weirdly deformed person with tumors and moles and maybe a lazy eye or something. I don’t mean that I have an issue on the outside (which I do, but we’ll get to that later) I’m having more of an internal struggle.
I try to be the best big brother I can be. Except, I wasn’t always the brother. I mean, I was always a boy on the inside, but I wasn’t on the outside. Now you see my dilemma.
I feel like I’ve been mislabeled, like a factory default. Like when a package gets the wrong stamp. And that makes me hate me. I’m not saying that I hate my whole existence, I like my personality but that doesn’t mean I like the package it’s in, you know?
Now, I’m waiting, in the dark, hidden. I really don’t know what people think of me: short haired girl who acts like a guy? But they’re wrong. I’m not a girl.
Welcome to my world.
I am Transgender.