It was 9.00 pm and Kyle was walking on his way home. Seul streets were full of people as usual and it was kind of difficult to walk without hitting anyone. The music was playing loudly in his headphones and his thoughts were finally free to run through his mind.
Since last summer this had become his typical Thursday evening as his mother had the brilliant idea of taking him to see a therapist. When he had heard those words coming out from her mouth for the first time, he couldn't believe his ears. All he could think of was: -Has she been thinking I'm crazy for all this time?-. He was terribly angry with her and he still couldn't forget the sadness and the disappointment he saw in her eyes that afternoon.
Kyle remembered the kind of relationship he had with his parents when he was younger: they were the type of family others envy and admire at the same time. He was like all the other kids in the little village where they lived and he used to wear a smile everyday. Sadly, during middle school something changed. He started feeling different from his peers and hating his own body. In class, everybody used to call him using female pronouns and this made him fell 'wrong' someway. He started spending hours looking at the mirror and staring at his chest with one thought in his head: -How can I make it look flatter?-.
As he went to high school things got worst. All the girls in his class used to wear tight jeans and t-shirts but he didn't like them at all. When he decided to talk about this to one of his closest friends, Miley, she got scared and he lost touch with her.
His heart got broken another time. Nobody seemed to understand him. One day he decided to cut his hair short and, when his parents saw him for the first time, they started screaming. The situation hadn't really improved in the last two years and he was still feeling alone and incredibly sad.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
You and I, up in the sky.
रोमांसSo they stare. Stare at my chest, stare at my hair. And it looks like their eyes are cutting my skin deeper than a knife.
