I was destroying myself for a selfish reason.
It’s not like I don’t like myself, but I just wanted to be what I felt that I was. I hated who I was and I needed to get rid of the person I was born to be. Everyone else may be comfortable in their own skin, but not me; I have better things to do than to love someone who can never be loved.
That’s why I decided to do what I did.
I threw away the long flannel shirt and the blue jeans and brought dresses and makeup. I also threw away all the posters of girls I collected over the years and replaced them with posters of boys. I started growing my hair our and even got a new name. I was sure everyone who saw me would accept me for who I truly was.
Well, not so fast.
My parents were upset to see that their son had turned himself into a girl. My sister stopped speaking to me and my brother wouldn’t even be in the same room as I was. My relatives couldn’t accept the new changes, so I was invited to fewer family functions. I haven’t seen my grandparents since God-knows-when.
People in society didn’t like the new changes, as I was taunted and beaten up. I was kicked out of school. But nothing compared to the night I was murdered.
My selfish decision to change myself ultimately led to my murder.