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