I'm a Real Boy
1/1
I sit on the bed and breathe deeply. The mirror across the room looks almost ominous as I scan it's height with my eyes. My eyes are watering. I stand up and slowly make my way towards it.
As I stand there, I mutter the words, "Ich sehe wie ein junge aus..".
I'm a little frightened and I smile at my reflection. I really grin wide and I start to cry. Soft at first, but then after three minutes I'm sobbing, making little noises in the back of my throat. I'm happy, but sad and I don't know any more. I really don't.
I hit my breast once, hard. I squeak, and get mad at myself. I get mad at God. I get mad at the fact that I'm this way. I hit my breasts more and more and I want to rip them off. I stop, not trying to ruin my tie that's securely fastened under my collar. I smile at it through the mirror, glad that I can dress this way when I'm alone. I pull up the pants that are ever so baggy around my waist and bum and I tuck my shirt into them.
"What's so great about being a girl anyway?" I ask, already knowing.
"Nothing," I answer myself. "Nothing at all."
My hair is in a pony tail and it tickles my neck. I scratch, but the feeling is still there. Finally, I become angry and I search for the scissors. I look everywhere, getting more mad at the situation. I can't find them anywhere and I plop myself down onto the floor, pouting. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see them shining under my bed.
I laugh and crawl like an infant towards them. I grab them and quickly snip the end of my pony tail off. I get excited and I start snipping everywhere, getting more into it. By the end, I'm back at the mirror again, observing my shaggy, short hair.
"Awesome."
I feel more like a boy and I smile. Finally, I am one.
As I stand there, I mutter the words, "Ich sehe wie ein junge aus..".
I'm a little frightened and I smile at my reflection. I really grin wide and I start to cry. Soft at first, but then after three minutes I'm sobbing, making little noises in the back of my throat. I'm happy, but sad and I don't know any more. I really don't.
I hit my breast once, hard. I squeak, and get mad at myself. I get mad at God. I get mad at the fact that I'm this way. I hit my breasts more and more and I want to rip them off. I stop, not trying to ruin my tie that's securely fastened under my collar. I smile at it through the mirror, glad that I can dress this way when I'm alone. I pull up the pants that are ever so baggy around my waist and bum and I tuck my shirt into them.
"What's so great about being a girl anyway?" I ask, already knowing.
"Nothing," I answer myself. "Nothing at all."
My hair is in a pony tail and it tickles my neck. I scratch, but the feeling is still there. Finally, I become angry and I search for the scissors. I look everywhere, getting more mad at the situation. I can't find them anywhere and I plop myself down onto the floor, pouting. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see them shining under my bed.
I laugh and crawl like an infant towards them. I grab them and quickly snip the end of my pony tail off. I get excited and I start snipping everywhere, getting more into it. By the end, I'm back at the mirror again, observing my shaggy, short hair.
"Awesome."
I feel more like a boy and I smile. Finally, I am one.
♠ ♠ ♠
Tell me if it is good. I can handle contsructive criticism.