Second draft of chapter 1. Saw some things I wanted to change.
Chapter 1: Dysphoria.
He wakes up from a long nap after school, like he always does. Heavy, deep and depressing thoughts tend to build up throughout every day of school, and when he gets home he has just had enough. Sleep is the release that is necessary for him to be able to function properly. Today the thoughts were going around the fact that one of these days he would have to tell his parents. Tell them everything. When would he do it? How would he do it? How would they react? All these thoughts are the reasons he avoids his parents as much as he can. No doubt, he loves them, and he knows they love him. They didn’t mind that he wanted to cut his hair short, they supported him and said they wanted him to be able to be himself. Mother and father had always been good that way; they had always encouraged him to be himself. Too bad that to them, himself was actually herself, their beautiful daughter Emily. Who was Emily? He was definitely not Emily. He was Jason. Had always been Jason, and he knew it.
Anyway, the stress of having to be around them with these thoughts dug deeply into his brain, is just too much to bear.
He opens his eyes, sees the bright pink paint of his room and it burns his eyes like it was lava. The tears start filling up in his eyes, like they always do. Sometime, about six years ago, his parents had asked what colour he wanted his walls to be. He thought for a while, and because he in a way thought he was supposed to want a girly colour, he had answered bright pink. That decision has gnawed on his mind since the day he made it, but he couldn’t change that now. He had to tell them first.
Jason is a 16 year old boy who had the misfortune of being born in the wrong body. Or as he puts it himself, the hell he was given at conception. He is what you would call an FTM (female to male) transsexual. The day he was conceived his body started developing the wrong way, with the wrong chromosome combination. His parents were so proud to finally have a daughter, after having two boys. Charlie was his oldest brother. He was 29 years old, and had moved to Australia when Jason was only five years old, so their relationship was lacking in many ways. The middle brother, Noah, was 19 years old, and very protective over his little “sister”. No matter what happened to Jason, Noah was there to support and protect him.
Wiping the flooding tears in his eyes that had poured out as reality had struck him once again after the sweet release of sleep, he stood up. He accidentally caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and was disgusted. Wearing only a bra and a pair of boxers, he could see all the things he hated the most in this world. The fat poking out on his hips, his waist curving in like a giant pear, the fatty thighs and the unfilled boxers where his penis was supposed to be. And then there were the main origin of his dysphoria, the two lumps of fat and tissue sticking out of his chest. One time, in a haze of rage and desperation, he had started cutting deep lacerations in the skin surrounding them. He had bled all over the bathroom floor, but managed to stop the bleeding once he came to himself again. Luckily, he had also been able to remove all the blood stains on the floor. Mother could never know.
He walks up to the clothing rack next to his bed, and puts on his loose fitting pants and the sweatshirt he had inherited from his brother Noah. The sweatshirt is indeed too big, but that serves his purpose well. He is able to hide the lumps on his chest if he just keeps his arms pulled forward at all times, so that the fabric doesn’t stretch in the front. Sighing deeply, he walks out into the hallway, dragging his feet as he goes to sit down at the dinner table. The little tear droplet that is left in the corner of his eye disappears as he is met by the big, loving smile of his older brother. Noah is the one thing in this world that makes his life worth living.