I could start this story in the past…and I probably should avoid an unwanted history lesson. But, as the tired, worn out, never mentioned on Tik-Tok saying goes, those who don't study history are doomed to repeat it. Stating that, I feel as If we’re all flying around in a tornado that we knew was coming. We were warned but only so many people heard the sirens and acted against the storm.

Tragically, not enough heard the sirens so I’m left feeling like I should be dead and I’m sure there are a few people out there who would love to pummel me, shoot me, throw me off a building, revive me and then do it all over again, ad nauseum.

Okay…here’s the history lesson: people are morons. Check that, there are morons out there that vote. Morons with agendas who have no idea how many babies are being thrown out with the bathwater.

I had survived round one only because I had not embraced the person I was inside. I didn’t think about it until one day, everything just clicked. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and wondered “who the hell are you? What are you doing with this life?” From that day, I embraced the person from within. The transition was rocky as teenagers are cruel and as a lowly freshman, I got to be the target of choice for three-fourths of the student body.

There were girls who embraced me and others whose parents made a bee line to the principal to demand I be required to change and slam myself back into the filthy closet I came out of—her words, not mine. That didn’t work, so I was able to live out as myself.

I wanted to try out for sports as our school, Ridley High, had the most wins in every sport imaginable…except for Cricket, that didn’t work out very well. I avoided Football, but I get into a few rendezvous romantique with some players, one, Justin Myers, who became my boyfriend later in the year. Basketball was out of the question due to my height. I was a dwarf compared to the other girls. Well, I could have tried for the junior varsity but decided to take a hard pass on that. I wanted to sit with Justin at the games, not run back and forth across the gym.

I decided to go out for track. The first day of practice I was segregated from the other girls in the locker room. I didn’t argue. I wanted to, but I didn’t. The coach had us run laps and I was proud to say I was able to keep out with the others and pass a few of them if I gave it my all.
The ribbons and trophies came in once again Ripley High School for the next two years. Every day when it was sunny I would be out on the track and each day I would walk past a trophy case that the picture of the girls’ track team and each day I would nod at said picture, the one with the team cheering with our hands in the air…and in the middle, hugging against my friend and rival, Bridget Westerman was me, Rhett Sanders.

Life was beautiful…until Tuesday November fifth, as I watched the TV with gritted teeth to see the face of the demon who haunted my dreams plastered on every channel.
It would be an understatement to say I wasn’t happy. Justin said nothing would change but I could feel the malignant alienation going ahead.