Acceptance

Out.

          Genderfluid. That's who I am. My gender and pronouns alternate between he, she,and they. I am biologically female. I always believed it wasn't the birth certificate that defined you, but your mind. You are what you are comfortable being, no matter whats in your pants, no matter what you were labeled as. You do you, that's my motto. Unfortunately that's not the case everywhere as I soon learned. That's not how everyone sees the world. 
           As a result of that fact I am here. Living alone, in a place where even the dogs cant find me. The cops have been after me for nearly a year now, I suppose my mother got worried. I don't see why they keep looking, they'll never find me. Everyone in the high school ought to think I'm dead by now, but the cops keep looking because they haven't found a body. They're not looking for a living person, they're looking for a body. I'm wanted dead or alive, just so the one that finds me can be called a hero. That's why I hide from the sick system they call honor.
       The forest is nice though. Calm, quiet. Even when the snow came it wasn't bad, I layered all my clothing and kept making fires with sticks. To hell with human contact. I have nature.
Nature speaks to me, keeps me alive, keeps me sane. There was only one person who could do the same for me, but I had to leave him behind. I hope and pray everyday that he's still alive, but at this point I find doubt creeping into the prayers. He probably believes I'm dead and now I find myself believing that he is dead too. That leaves me with no reason to go back to the darkness I left.
It was all great, I was a happy girl. Until I realized I didn't feel like a girl all the time.  Sometimes I truly felt like a boy. Sometimes i felt like neither. Those were the worst times. Not being able to fit myself into the binary...it was horrible. I felt like a freak.
I was attracted to more than just boys, truly everyone. I'm pansexual. I didn't know what it was though. All they taught me in school was "Don't get pregnant, its wrong. You're too young." Whenever a boy would bully me for looking so masculine my family would just say, "Oooh he likes you, Cora." I never understood how abuse and verbal pain could connect with love. It shouldn't connect, they are not synonyms.
       Then came the day I came out. The last day in my neighborhood. I had done my research, figured out the technical terms for my gender and sexuality. I told my mother. Her response was not what I expected at all.
"You were born a girl, you are a girl, deal with it." And, "Cora, pick one or the other, you can't have both." It was then I knew I wasn't accepted here.
She kept harassing me for weeks asking if I still was attracted to both girls and boys. I would say yes, she would slap me. Hard. A month after I had initially come out, I ran. I ran to the person I loved, the only light in this darkness, I said goodbye. He asked why and I gave no explanation. I simply ran. I kept running, and 11 months later I'm here in a forest somewhere in Pennsylvania.
I wonder if I could ever go back, if I would have a better life. The doubt comes back, and I decide my best place is here, where nobody is around and I can accept myself for who I am.