“Now, are you a boy or a girl?” A voice rang into my mind.
It was my voice, of course, as I was narrating the words that I read on-screen. The bright light against my face were quick to make my eyes blink, making me toss the game console aside and stare into the dark abyss known as my room.
That question has always been a hard one for me to answer. Mainly because, well…
I’m a bit of both.
I’m not even trying to exaggerate or anything.
Alexander was born on a Sunday morning, a sunny one at that. No doctor saw anything wrong, even after the numerous blood tests and genitalia checking. Me and my parents all went home fine, and I grew up like a normal boy.
Or so, or I, thought.
Around when I was six or seven, I began to feel very strange at times. My dad would take me to the park, and then, I would suddenly start to feel lightheaded. Not wanting to leave the park, I ducked behind a slide and then feel myself… change in some kind of way. There was a bit of pain, but after a bit of time, I began to feel like myself again. I charged myself towards my father, asking him if I could get some ice cream from the ice cream truck later.
He looked at me with a perplexed look on his face. He looked back and forth, bent down on his knees, and put a hand on my shoulder.
I shuddered at that moment, not knowing what my father was doing. He would usually remain standing and give me a slight nod, or tell me no if he didn’t bring money with him that day.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. You might have confused me with your actual dad, but I’m not him. I can maybe try and help you look for him…” He looked down nervously, as he usually was. As for me, I froze on my feet. What happened that made my father that made him forget me so fast? With tears streaming down my face, I ran behind the slide once again and sulked, wiping the tears that wouldn’t stop coming out. I then peered at my hand.
“Wh-wha…” It looked smaller than usual. I touched the top of my hair.
That most definitely did not feel like my hair. The dizziness returned, and then…
I couldn’t remember anything from there.
I closed my eyes and placed my arm over my eyes. It was getting late. I liked to stay up on Saturday nights, but tonight felt different. I felt increasingly more tired, especially after thinking about that incident. I’m fourteen now, and it hasn’t happened again since that day.
Here’s to hoping it doesn’t happen ever again.
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