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Added this cause I thought it was cool ❤️. Enjoy


On the first day of kindergarten, I was this bright and excited little boy, ready for whatever grade K would give me. I remember my outfit exactly. Short sleeved black shirt. Denim shorts. Some really cool light up sneakers (ok look, it was 2007. Chill. On. Me). My momma had rubbed some moisturizer through my curls, oiled up my skin, and showered me with kisses, telling me how much she adored my look. I didn't really get what she meant. I personally didn't like what I wore. I didn't feel comfortable in it. I wasn't so sure what I wanted to wear instead, that is, until my parents drove me to Thomas Jefferson Elementary (did you know he raped his slaves? Why the hell is he on Mount Rushmore? Only Lincoln deserves that spot).

Anyway, after my parents took like, a thousand pictures of me, they drove me to school. And there, that's where I realized that I truly didn't like the outfit I was wearing. I looked at the little girls in my class, while my dad pressed me to smile for some more pictures, and imagined myself in their clothes and shoes. Pretty pink dresses, sparkly flats. Long girly hairstyles. Clutching onto their dolls. I really wanted to be them in that moment. I didn't like my plaid shirt and boyish shorts. I wanted to wear one of their My Little Pony shirts, and their girlish shorts (trust me, there's a difference). I wanted a doll too, I felt like everything was so unfair! My father had bought me a ton of toys before, but get this...they were all transformers, and monster trucks, etc. I wanted a Barbie doll.

After the first day I had come to my mom, a pout on my face, and told her that I didn't like my light up shoes. She was shocked. "Why, they're so cute? Look, if you tap them three times they light up! Isn't that so cool!" She told me to tap my foot and after a few tries they lit up, red and blue. I had to smile, because she looked so happy and I love when my mother's happy. So I kept stomping my feet, and jumping around the living room to make her laugh. And after that, I forgot that I didn't like my light up shoes. But imagining myself as other girls didn't stop, though.

One evening, while my mother was bathing me, we talked about kindergarten. I explained to her what we did everyday, who my friends were, and what the lunch was like. My mother, completely fascinated by my tellings, took a break real quick to go check on the dinner downstairs. When she was completely out of sight, I'd gotten out of the tub and opened the bottom sink cabinet to get some scissors. Then I'd hopped back in the shower tub and I'd tried to cut my penis off.

And when my mom so all the blood staining the water, she'd screamed. "MARK! MARK! OH MY GOD, MARK COME!" She'd cried. "Kaylen what happened!"

I'd started crying by then because I didn't expect the scissors to cut me. Weird enough. I'd brought them out to take off the one thing that bothered me most, yet I hadn't expected them to hurt me. Wild.

"Mommy, I'm sorry!" I'd sobbed. "Mommy please don't be mad at me!"

My father had dashed up by then, in all his Dominican glory. When he'd seen the bloody water, he'd gasped. "Kaylen, what happened?!"

"Daddy I'm sorry, just please make it stop! Make the bleeding stop daddy!"

At that moment, I think something clicked in my father. He'd rushed over, while my mother silently cried in corner. He'd successfully cleaned up my wounds, adding some Neosporin onto my length with a q-tip. After he'd helped me, he'd given me a hug, and said, "I always want you to be my son. I don't wanna lose my son. Please don't play around with sharp objects like this again, ok sport?" I'd sniffled loudly and nodded, and he'd hugged me tight and kissed my cheek. "I love you, kiddo."

He had then gotten up, and walked to the corner of the bathroom, where my mother stood, and help up her chin. "Don't worry baby, I got this. He's good now. Look at me." He leaned in to kiss her lips softly. "He was just playing around with the scissors and got a little cut, he's gonna be alright."

That was far from the truth. I had tried to cut my dick off. I had wanted to. My father didn't know that though. And he couldn't know that, that was the thing. So I kept my mouth shut, and when he and my mother were done kissing, and he left, I apologized to my mother.

"Momma, I'm sorry," I'd muttered. "I didn't mean it." She'd wrapped her frail brown arms around me and brought me closer to her, kissing the top and side of my head.

"It's ok, my little bug. Never again though, ok? Can you promise mommy. Say 'I promise.'"

I'd sniffled. "Yes mommy. I promise."

After making that promise, I'd never tried to self-mutilate again.


~

Just a little message...This story is written in the first person point of view of one character, the main character. All experiences and events are merely fictional, and if they collide with any of yours, my bad. Please don't copy any parts of this book, as I've worked very hard on it. Plus, what is there to copy anyways, LOL (don't laugh). 

Sadly, there'll be some cuss words (HAHA not sorry). If you are sensitive to that then please don't read. I rated it mature for that reason and that reason only. So please don't report. 

If you are homophobic, transphobic, phobic-phobic, DON'T READ THIS BOOK. I SUPPORT DA LGBTQ BITCH IF YOU NOT WIT IT THEN QUIT IT.

HAHA anyway enjoy ❤️✨

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