This is the story of a transsexual girl and how her life has been.

This is the first story I've written at all, and English is not my first language, so please forgive me if I've made some grammatical errors, but feel free to notify me about them, because I want to learn.

I was never a happy child. I had no real friends, but my three year younger brother had some, and I could hang out with them from time to time. I wasn't interested in school or getting new friends, I would much rather curl up in my bed and read a book pretending our world didn't exist. I had a friend once, in kindergarten I was five or six years old, she was very nice when most other kids bullied me, it was never physical, I just never could play with them and they would call me names, when we where going to start school we had to go to different schools because of living in different school districts, I saw her again many years later, in seventh grade, but she was a very different person then. On the summer between first and second grade my mother died in a car accident, it might or might not have been suicide, no one knows but there are speculations in our family, I can't remember her, I've just seen a few pictures that tells me she had glasses and dark curly hair. My father had met a new woman before my mother died, and my parents had been separated and back together several times, I like my stepmother she was always nice to me and .

I never liked my birth name so I won't write it here. I was born with male characteristics. I had since long back realised something was wrong with me, it wasn't that I was just shy, because I was very shy and still is. When I was nine years old I lay in a thorny bush on the school yard crying, and wishing I could die, after some kids had bullied me. Then I remember thinking I should have been born a girl. But I knew that could never happen, because everybody said I was a boy, and should behave like one. I didn't want people to notice me so I never said anything, I was afraid my father and stepmother, would be angry and yell at me, so I curled up with my books and pretended this world didn't exist, I loved the books where there where a heroine, and I would imagine it was me. I liked to draw and tried to draw pictures of me in dresses or skirts, but I was never good at it. I started thinking of myself as Alice. Sometimes I was left home alone then I'd try my stepmothers, or my 8 year younger sisters clothes, they never fit me well, so I just did it a few times a month or a year depending on when I got the chance. I tried on dresses that where several sizes too big, and they where ugly, something you'd see an old lady wearing, And not soon after they where too small.I'm not petite, or short, I'm six feet but I was rather skinny, however I have and always had broad shoulders and a big head.

Puberty started, I got a very deep voice, that I hardly ever used, people where very often surprised to hear such a voice from some skinny boy who always looked at the floor. I hated my voice and still do. I lived with my father and stepmother and siblings until I was rather old. At age eighteen I had to serve my conscription for ten months, I thought it might teach me how to be a man, it didn't I still wanted to be a girl, the only good thing that came from it was that I didn't look at the floor all the time after, but many times I've regretted I didn't use the gun to kill myself. I talked to someone about transvestites, I don't now why the subject came up, and I asked if transvestites where still transvestites after an operation, I had never heard the word "transsexual", he said yes, that made very depressed, because then I knew I would never be a real woman.

When I realised I could find information on this new thing called the Internet, I started searching for "boys in skirts" and other things like that, and I came upon sites with stories that was rather nasty in my opinion, but they fascinated me because I had never heard of something like this before, so I read and read, and I found a few really good stories that described almost how I felt, and I learned the word ”transsexual”. I started searching on it and found a lot of information, and I could say "this is me, this is who I am". But what should I do about it? I didn't had no idea, I never dared talk to anyone, I was afraid my father would find out and throw me out. I moved away from my father when I was twenty-four, I had dropped out of college after almost failing every semester, I just didn't want to give up, I wasn't interested in what I studied.

While living at home I started buying girl clothes and hiding them, the first time I went into a clothing store with the aim to buy an article of women's clothing I was so nervous I grabbed almost the first thing I saw a baby blue fitted t-shirt. I was almost shaking when I paid, and people looked strangely at me. But, I managed it, I pretended I would say it was for my sister if someone asked, but luckily it never happened. And after that I kept buying clothes and make-up, and shoes, I was almost always nervous but it got better every time. I hid them, and every day I was afraid someone would look in my room and find them, and confront me about it, but it never happened.

I finally moved away, I had some jobs but was on welfare a lot, I could dress at home, I tried to grow my hair out but it wasn't possible, soon after I moved it almost stopped growing and falling off I bought some cheap wigs. And inside with the drapes down I was always dressed as a woman, a couple of times I went out but I was scared to death, and I don't think many people saw me or at least they didn't recognize me.

This is a good bye of sorts.
/Alice

November 12, 2007, My brother took a large dose of sleeping pills, he called the hospital himself and the ambulance took him to the hospital, he stayed there for 4 weeks to start anti-depressives, he seemed to feel better and found a job as a door salesman, the first day at work January 12, 2008, the date we know from another letter he wrote, he went home, dressed himself in a black skirt and white blouse put on a wig and make-up, and a necklace, he lay down in the bathtub, and cut his wrists. He was found five weeks later when our father hadn't heard anything from him, and he hadn't returned calls, he became 28 years old.

The End

This is mostly autobiographical, and a what could have happened.