This was written thanks to another prompt by the Goodreads YA LGBT group. The picture given was

writters challenge2I hate the way my body looks like in the mirror. The person is too skinny, too curvy and too soft. Her shoulders are not broad enough; her chest is too puffy its looks as if a tiny balloon is glued to her chest. Her voice is too high and not deep enough to be me.

I know I’m not a girl but I’m not sure if I’m a boy. I love online shopping, the stripper heels, Kanye West sneakers, binders, compression shorts and premium lipstick can attest to that.

I’m not always like this though; sometimes I feel like Beyoncé and sometimes like Nick Cannon. Sometimes I’m stuck in between and it doesn’t hurt, other times it does.

At sixteen, most people want to get a boyfriend, a new laptop or some swanky gear. I have all that but all I want is to be a complete person. Not a half boy, a half girl or some confusing person.

I’m not depressed; I’ve never tried to kill myself or anything like that, I’m not mentally or emotionally sick either. Nana says I’m just being a greedy little girl who wants everything and to be everything and maybe she is right.

Dad has finally taken a week off and we’ll be going to one of our cabins in the woods. There’s no internet there, I don’t know anyone there and most importantly, it’s FUCKING WINTER.

Nana is already spewing crap about family bonding and connecting with nature. Frankly, the only thing I want to connect to right now is my boyfriend’s dick but Jerry has been avoiding me as of late.

Sometimes I think his masculinity is so fragile that when he sees me working out in my binders and boxers he is threatened. It hurts that he sees what I’m wearing not me, why should it matter that there are times I hate my boobs, hips and vagina, it’s not like I don’t let him fuck me despite that.

I’ve never tried to kill myself or done anything to permanently change myself but there are times I wish I could. I stand in front of my mirror, pink scissors in hand, as I cut my hair like Jerry’s it’s not a flattering hairstyle and it’s more suited for the backup singer of a boy band about to split up.

Despite how unattractive it looks, there’s this thing in my chest that calms down a bit. I can’t say I’m happy but for now, I’m fine. I know I should take a bath to wash off the hair on my body but I feel like if I take my clothes off to take a bath when I see myself in the bathroom mirror the thing in my chest will die.

So I stand up, dust the hair off my body; grab one of my binders and boxers from my underwear drawer. I walk towards my closet, pick up one of my T-shirt, jeans, and zipped jacket. I don’t look fabulous or anything; I look weird and average but that thing in my chest is still there, so it doesn’t bother me so much.
Wearing my one of my sneakers, I sneak out of the house. It’s 2 pm and Nana is probably reading a book or taking an early afternoon nap.

I remember the tiny spot a few minutes away from Jerry’s. The ice should be thick enough for me to lie down and stare at the sky.

It doesn’t take long, it’s been around only twenty minutes, I’m not sure as I’m not wearing a watch and I left my phone at home, all that matters is that I’m here. The ice is inviting and there’s silence all around, no dad who has to work almost every day but still has the time to rebuff my life choices. No Nana who can’t just mind her own business, no Jerry who doesn’t love me enough to stay with me and help me figure out what’s wrong with me.

I lie on the ice and close my eyes; I let my mind drift. Call it a moment of weakness but I’m tired of always been strong, of always being on guard, I want to relax and for once there is no one around. No dad, no Nana, no Jerry or gossiping maids just me.

“My name is Stacey and I don’t know what I am.” I whisper to myself. I open my eyes as a snowflake lands on my cheek, I know I look pathetic lying in the cold with not enough clothing to prevent me from being sick but it doesn’t matter right now.

There is no confusion, no self-loathing, and no reflection in the mirrors or in the silverware. The thing in my chest is calm.

“My name is Stacey and I wish I could stay like this forever.”

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