The window is cold. I know this because my forehead is pressed up against it; I’m so close that I no longer can tell the difference between the rain drops and my tears. It’s kind of nice though, the sound of the rain smashing against the window; soothing. I breathe out and watch as a circle of condensation forms on the glass. Gingerly, I bring up a hand to draw a face in it. The face is smiling. I smile back at it and chuckle quietly. I frown; I broke the silence. I’m not supposed to do that. Now I can’t hear the rain.

I worry my lip and glance towards the darkness outside. I can just make out Mr. Gordon’s house. Nice man. I wonder if he’s lonely. He probably is; no one ever visits him. I know I’d be lonely. Poor guy, everyone always complains that when they go to his place they can’t leave for ages because he never shuts up. Selfish gits, what do they expect? They ignore him until they need to borrow something from him.

My brow creases as I think about all the other people who live here. It’s a small place, here. You’d think everyone would be friends. But you’d be thinking wrong of course, as always. Everyone’s always too busy with their own problems to worry about anyone else’s, or to even notice that anyone else has problems, let alone need help.

I let my eyes wander towards the sky. What if everyone helped everyone else out? What if a time, or a place, existed where everyone got along and nobody was lonely? What if.

I realise that I’ve forgotten what I was upset about, of course realising that just makes me think about it again. I sigh and slowly lower my eyes back to the ground again. The little smiley face has gone; it must be really cold out there.

You do realise that as I’m standing here I can picture all this being written out right? I might even type it up later. If I can be bothered that is. I don’t really see the point of writing it down though. Might help I suppose. Although I’m more of a visual person, I’m not that good at writing. Can you tell? What the hell am I asking you for?

I realise I’m almost literally talking to the air and stop. Maybe I have a few screws loose after all, I wouldn’t be surprised. Or maybe everything has led me to this, reduced me to a raving lunatic. Well, not so much with the raving. Oh great, I’m talking to you again. Ah well, why the hell not?

You probably wonder what I’m upset about right? Well, I’ll tell you.

I’m upset at myself.

Yes that’s right. I hate myself. Not much of a surprise though, everyone hates themselves to a certain degree. But I just, I don’t know. What is there about me that’s good? I’m a freak, just a freak. I should be put down like the puppies at the pound. I’m probably wanted just as much as them anyway. Who wants me, this freak? This abomination of nature that can’t help to be this way? This human being who hates no one but themselves, who has never in their life hurt anyone and has spent their entire life offering morale to people who never return it. People who left me. Left right after I told them who, what, I am. I say what because that’s what they made me feel, not who, but what. Not human. Freak. Just like I said.

Am I really all that bad though? Does my very existence threaten people? Will my being here bring forth some sort of disaster? Am I really not capable of being a member of the society? Am I not capable of being your friend? I would you know, if you’d let me. I’d be such a good friend. I’d be there for you, no matter what. Would you do the same? I’d so much like it if you did, if for once, somebody did.

Oh god I’m being such a sissy. Please, tell me off for crying, tell me I’m stupid for crying. Tell me it’s all my own fault. Tell me I’m worthless and don’t deserve your pity. Go on, tell me. Everyone else did.

I mean, who in their right mind would like me? Me, the child that was proclaimed to be female on my day of birth, but who identifies as male, a gay male at that. No, no one in their right mind would like me. I don’t blame you.

Like I said, I don’t like me either.



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