17 April 2012
Every day I wake up and make myself who I am. Whatever I am. Every day I look in the mirror and hate what I see. Every day is a struggle with discrimination, prejudices, funny looks and comments. I bind my chest, put on a baggy shirt, hiding from the truth. I spike my short hair, put on my chinos and converse and I'm on my way. Little kids ask their parents if that's a boy or girl with funny hair. Shop assistants hand me my change without saying a word. Not really knowing what to say. At work people don't look me in the face, they look at my chest. Working out what I am. Right now I don't know who
I am. What I am. What I do know is I'm fucking human, and I shouldn't have to fit into any sub-categories.
Human • Opuss № I