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Cover Up

only women liked those scents and Alex was no woman. Alex was a

boy who needed to finally accept it.

She ran into her room and grabbed the pink coat that caused her

so much angst and tore it up in tiny pieces until it lay an ugly pink

pile of her floor. Alex grabbed her favourite pair of navy jeans and

baggy white top and threw them on. She grabbed a pair of scissors

and began cutting her long hair haphazardly. With each lock of hair

that fell on the bathroom tiles around her, Alex felt more and more

free. It was as if the coat, her hair and the floral scented perfume

held as a tether to the artificial life she wished to leave behind.

Alex stared back at his reflection and for the first time he was

actually happy with the face and body that stared back at him. Alex

was sick of pretending. He was sick of changing himself for the sake

of others. No longer would he be known as the beautiful girl who

had it so perfect. Alex would be known as the freaky boy, because

that’s what he was.

He didn’t care how many people would be repulsed by the way

he was or by how many disgusted looks he got. Alex was who he had

always been, but this time publicly, because he didn’t care what

others thought of him anymore.

By the time Alex graduated he was an outcast with a disgruntled

mother and family but never felt more free. With nothing hanging

on his shoulders, Alex felt like the person he had always wanted

to be. He was finally happy even if he was called a freak and he

was ignored completely, it didn’t bother him anymore. Alex was

finally Alex.