I'm not a girl.
Now that I think about it, that does make a lot of sense. But what the fuck do I do about it? Do I tell some one? Do I bury it deep down inside until I die? No, that one doesn't seem too healthy. But if I tell some one, who do I tell? What if the person I tell doesn't like me anymore? Oh my god, what if Stan doesn't like me anymore?
No, fuck Stan, what if my parents don't like me anymore? They could fucking kick me out. God, maybe burying it deep down won't be that bad for me after all. My parents are already iffy about gay people, who knows what they'll think about me wanting to be a boy. Actually, I don't even know what that's called. How am I even supposed to tell people if I don't know what it's called.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, ignoring my missed texts from Stan and going straight to google. I typed in "what it it called when you want to be the gender that you weren't born as," praying that it made sense. It came up that it's called being transgender, and it's when you identify a gender different from your birth gender. Cool. Well, not cool 'cause now I have to deal with that, but at least I know what it is. I then open my texts from Stan, which were just asking why I walked home with Craig instead of the others.
sorry, i had something to talk to him about I reply to the spam of messages.
Okay, so nothing is wrong? He replies. Pretty fast, actually.
nope, everything's great :) Liar. Everything isn't great, you just broke your gender.
Putting my phone back down, I start to think again. What do I do now? Nobody's going to believe me if I tell them, I've made no effort to look like a boy. Maybe I should. Maybe if I cut my hair. No, actually, if I do it on my own it'll look bad. I'll ask Stan to do it once I tell him, he cuts his sister's hair sometimes and it always turns out good. I think he does his own bangs, too.
Maybe if I, like, pushed down my boobs. Like, if I made it so that you can't see them. Because boys don't have boobs (unless they're Cartman). I got up and walked to my dresser, digging through my drawer and looking for old sports bras. I found three, but I figure that if I stack them on top of each other it'll get rid of my boobs. I tried them on, and it did something. I guess. Not much, but there's less boob now. It's a little better now.
I took the bra off and I laid back down on my bed, folding my arms over my chest. Maybe I should tell Craig first. He is the reason I realized, after all, so I kind of owe it to him. Plus, I know he won't react badly since he's the one who brought up the idea to me. And 'cause he's gay so he probably understands this shit better than I do. Oh god, if I like guys am I gay now, too? I don't know, but I don't want to unpack that right now. And then, once telling boosts my confidence about it, I can tell Stan. And he'll probably be chill about it. He's always chill about things.
I fell asleep after a while of laying there and thinking, which was a relief because I was tired from all the stress of this shit.
