I wish I was perfect. I wish I could erase everything that happened, erase my birth and modify myself into my own perfect genetic marvel. If life was a video game, I’d be the generically engineered
badass that has the perfect features, handsome with dark hair and charming eyes, a perfect body and a sharp, deadly mind. I wish I could change what I was, what had happened, and what had become to
this corrupted place. Sometimes I even dream about being perfect, about being who I wanted to be. What I felt inside.
But I wasn’t perfect, and I certainly wasn’t a handsome young man with a rebellious past. I was just a sheltered, bratty little sixteen year old girl. I didn’t have the things I felt inside, I wasn’t a boy, I wasn’t masculine, and I certainly didn’t have an amazing body. Hell, I didn’t even have big boobs. I was anti-social, less then attractive, and spent most of my time diving head first into my own insanity. I knew I was never going to have the things that I wanted for my body and mental state. So, I made it up in my mind. My own little world, where I wasn’t Samantha, but Keiran; genetically engineered badass with a perfect body, mental state, and the most charming of features with shaggy ebony hair and piercing icy blue eyes. Keiran was perfect, and for me, I was Keiran. I wasn’t the lanky little teen that nobody liked because she talked to herself in shaded corners, or the girl who got picked last for P.E teams. I was Keiran, the most popular, athletic, and lusted after teen on campus. I was Keiran, an inspirational person with a secret love for animals and an ambition to be an international super spy.
Scooping up my dull brown hair into a pony tail and throwing on a washing machine faded gray and white striped jacket over a black tank top and a pair of skinny jeans, I checked myself in the mirror. Simple, not elegant. “Just the way we like it, right Sammy?” Came a slurred, silk like voice. Keiran was apart of my everyday life, and not just another character to rot in my head. Like I said, Keiran was me. I never saw the female with hazel eyes and brunette hair that I was stuck in. I didn’t see the female parts, I only saw the male. I could imagine it vividly, who I was, who Keiran was. What he was, and more importantly, that it was a he. I guess that’s why it took me a good fifteen seconds to respond to anyone calling my real name, because I didn’t see myself as Samantha anymore. I wasn’t Sammy, or Sam, I was a boy stuck in a girls body. And I absolutely hated it.
Sometimes I would even almost go into the boys bathroom at school or in public places, forgetting that nobody else saw what I saw, and nobody else saw the man behind the pale ivory skin, that nobody could ever see through this mask. I knew nobody ever would, that I could never become what I wanted. It was unthinkable, for a girl to want to be a boy. For a girl to want to be a bisexual boy who enjoyed a good time being on the bottom of another man’s sexual frustration. To be Keiran and to want to have a male lover, it was something that I couldn’t ever quiet grasp. Why couldn’t I just be normal, and have a husband? That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? Despite this, I couldn’t see myself being a woman in a straight relationship, or even in a lesbian relationship. I didn’t want to get pregnant, or do “it” the way straight couples did. I wanted to be a man. I wanted to do what men do, and no matter how bad I wanted it, I knew I could never reach out to my dream. I could never have this dream, could never fulfill it. I would be miserable and live a straight life. Get married, Keiran’s personality dying as I had to accept the fact I was a woman. I knew deep inside that I would become depressed, write my lover a simple explanation, and commit suicide. I know that if Keiran can’t escape, he’ll take our life and hope to seek peace to his extremely frustrated soul. When that time comes, I could only ever hope for a chance at a second life. For redemption and a chance at the life that I so badly wanted, but knew I could never achieve in the fullest sense. To be perfect, to have the chance to live outside and inside as Keiran. To find love, and to live with him for the rest of my life. To be happy, and never tortured by a mask I could never burn.
To be a man.
With a heavy sigh, I slowly wiped away the tears that threaten to spill from the hollow pit of the mask’s eyes. I pondered a moment if I should cascade the mask with make up, to make a more attractive appearance. Perhaps so I could look good if I was just to accidentally end up dead today. Keiran forced our head to shake, however. “ I don’t want to wear make up when I die, I want to be natural. Even though I look quite dashing with raccoon eyes made out of eyeliner.” He cooed softly. What? Men could wear make up too.
Grabbing our super hipster one shoulder black backpack filled with at least fifteen pounds worth of paper and school books, Keiran quickly bounded down the stairs that led to the living room and into the connection of the open spaced kitchen. I was a single child, my mother died giving birth to me and my “father” was a drunkard with a passion for women that worked the corner. He woke up by noon and was drunk by two, so I never had any chance of having a hard working parent up early to make sure their child had a nourishing breakfast to start their day. I didn’t usually eat breakfast, quickly settling depression developing into an eating disorder. I liked to drink coffee sometimes in the mornings, just to get that rush of caffeine and to soothe the ache in my empty stomach. Today I didn’t plan on coffee. I felt like walking, running to school away from the children on the buses and into the chilly fall air.
I could just keep running, until I ran out into a busy road and was hit by a car, or get lost in the woods and hang myself with a belt. If there was such a thing as heaven, I’m almost certain that I was going to hell. And if god was real, would he take pity? Would he let Keiran live and burn the mask in the depths of hell, would he pity and let my life finally begin? My fate was sealed the moment I was denied the hormone that makes eggs male. And I’ve known, ever since I was a little child playing in the park, that I wasn’t meant to be a female. My brain had always been Keiran deep down inside, and it made me so upset that I could never be 100% what I knew I was.
It was so upsetting. The idea of dieing seemed more and more appealing as bile began to settle on my tongue. Perhaps it should turn into more then ideas. One day, maybe Keiran will get tired of restless nights and hopeless wishes, and the final trigger will be pulled. One day, there wouldn’t be any more suffering. Any more pain, or any more hiding behind a fake alias. Bliss. Perfection. Everything that I’ve ever wanted. To be what I am on the inside, to be me. To be a homosexual male, a perfectly happy, normal man.
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