‹ Prequel: Dark Eyes Glaring, Thin Lips Swearing
Linoleum Tiles
Linoleum Tiles
A pretty face and a tiny waist didn’t help matters much.
I always looked like a girl, so frail, so pretty, and I hated it so much. Wearing loose jeans and tight t-shirts only made it worse; I looked so much like a girl despite the fact that I am, in fact, a boy. Or at least I think I am, I’m not too sure, no one is, really.
My figure and the way my hair fell just so into my face made sure that even before I’d started high school, I was already an outcasted ‘freak’.
Freak, they used that word so much, to describe people like me, who just don’t fit. I can’t be categorised, so they created a new category for all of us. Freak.
Bleeding on the bathroom tiles didn’t help at all. Sure, it made me feel better about myself, but the second they saw the scars, I wasn’t just a freak. I was now an ‘emo freak’.
I skipped PE, which became a nightmare the second the other guys became sexually active and when I was getting changed, half of them would be trying to peer and see if I had a dick and the other half would be trying to check to see if I had tits.
Bleeding on the linoleum tiles made it so much easier to cope. I’d get in from school, lock the door and turn all the anger I felt towards others, against myself until the white linoleum was splattered with crimson and I felt dizzy and weak.
High school was worse than middle school by a long way. Teachers were unsure whether to call me ‘miss’ or ‘mister’ so settled for calling me ‘Alex’. After all, it’s so much easier if it’s a name of indeterminate gender, a bit like myself, right?
I skipped PE altogether, not wanting to repeat the hell of middle school.
Toilets are hard as well. I never know whether to use the mens or the womens.
It’s harder being a girl with a dick than a guy who looks like a girl, right?
I thought that too, until I actually used the mens toilets. I walked in and one of them wolf-whistled, the others laughed and told me that I’d gotten the wrong toilets.
I usually pissed behind a bush, it was that bad.
Ha, yeah, same old sob story I know.
I graduated and went to university, where I met my girlfriend. At first she thought I was a girl too, until she realised and was a bit embarrassed, to say the least. But I love her, and she loves me.
I’m so lucky to have someone like her, who laughs when people yell “dykes” at us, because she knows we’re not, I know she isn’t. I love her so much, but I pity the others. The ‘freaks’ like me, the ones who weren’t so lucky as to have such an amazing girl who’s so accepting, no matter who you are.
Some of us didn’t get off so easy.
I always looked like a girl, so frail, so pretty, and I hated it so much. Wearing loose jeans and tight t-shirts only made it worse; I looked so much like a girl despite the fact that I am, in fact, a boy. Or at least I think I am, I’m not too sure, no one is, really.
My figure and the way my hair fell just so into my face made sure that even before I’d started high school, I was already an outcasted ‘freak’.
Freak, they used that word so much, to describe people like me, who just don’t fit. I can’t be categorised, so they created a new category for all of us. Freak.
Bleeding on the bathroom tiles didn’t help at all. Sure, it made me feel better about myself, but the second they saw the scars, I wasn’t just a freak. I was now an ‘emo freak’.
I skipped PE, which became a nightmare the second the other guys became sexually active and when I was getting changed, half of them would be trying to peer and see if I had a dick and the other half would be trying to check to see if I had tits.
Bleeding on the linoleum tiles made it so much easier to cope. I’d get in from school, lock the door and turn all the anger I felt towards others, against myself until the white linoleum was splattered with crimson and I felt dizzy and weak.
High school was worse than middle school by a long way. Teachers were unsure whether to call me ‘miss’ or ‘mister’ so settled for calling me ‘Alex’. After all, it’s so much easier if it’s a name of indeterminate gender, a bit like myself, right?
I skipped PE altogether, not wanting to repeat the hell of middle school.
Toilets are hard as well. I never know whether to use the mens or the womens.
It’s harder being a girl with a dick than a guy who looks like a girl, right?
I thought that too, until I actually used the mens toilets. I walked in and one of them wolf-whistled, the others laughed and told me that I’d gotten the wrong toilets.
I usually pissed behind a bush, it was that bad.
Ha, yeah, same old sob story I know.
I graduated and went to university, where I met my girlfriend. At first she thought I was a girl too, until she realised and was a bit embarrassed, to say the least. But I love her, and she loves me.
I’m so lucky to have someone like her, who laughs when people yell “dykes” at us, because she knows we’re not, I know she isn’t. I love her so much, but I pity the others. The ‘freaks’ like me, the ones who weren’t so lucky as to have such an amazing girl who’s so accepting, no matter who you are.
Some of us didn’t get off so easy.