Where to begin? In 2020, when no one could deny it anymore? In 2014, when we first began to suspect? or back in 1998, when I was born?
Surely it was after that, once I was alive and aware enough to be effected by the world around me. To realise how poorly I fit in.
Mother would have you believe that this all part of my illness. That the strangeness within my soul stems from the pollution of my mind which can be healed through vigorous excercise of the body.
Father would have you believe that I am lying.
Maybe they are right.
Maybe I am making it all up for attention.
Maybe the wrongness comes from never knowing what I felt or how to feel it, never knowing if I was being touched or why, or living outside of my skin.
Maybe it was something done to me, something THEY DID TO ME, something that makes me not at peace with myself. Corrupted.
Or maybe maybe maybe it is that they don't know my name, and I do. Maybe I know what I want more than they know what they want for me. Maybe I know who I am.
Maybe.
Or maybe I'm making it all up for attention. After all, I've only been alive Twenty Two Years. That's not nearly enough time to know anything for certain.
