A true to life story yet it's only threads in a rope of a more complicated life.
Sorry for how short it is but due to my writing age being at 11-12 from dyslexia I think I will leave it at that for now. Constructive comments are welcomed.

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I awakened to being incredibly sick but all I could vomit was bile and my body was covered in sweat. With constant shaking and a headache that felt as though my head would either explode or burn, I was in a terrible state. As I lay there trying to get up, I thought about how I got here.

I have always been different since an early age. At 4 years of age I was of an average height with long blonde hair and large vivid blue eyes that always attracted the comments.

I had just started primary school and would find it easier to make friends with the girls but I played with the boys just as much. No one really took notice much during the day but I would be inside and around the fake kitchen with all the girls as often as running around outside. I would get the odd comment about being pretty and such a sweetheart off other parents. With the knowledge of knowing I was a boy and if my dad found out I was getting treated like a girl by other parents my dad would be mad so I made a scene about being a boy even though I enjoyed the comments I had received . My dad often would take his frustrations out on me as he blamed me for most problems if they arise and his hatred for anything different especially Gays. This I had picked up early and had learnt that he thought being called a girl was supposed to be insulting. I tried to make him happy by being stronger than every one ells and tried to prove it.

I became so aggressive and would often fight. I then became known as a bully and a trouble maker. This went on for a long time. My dad would be proud and my only worry was my mother and who would stir up the situation. Like when I had arrived home and my dad would want to take me to a hair dresser yet my mother would argue I looked better being a girl. My father would lash out at her then turn to me with rage that often ended up me being hurt physically.

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I was 5/6 years of age when I was playing house with Samantha across the road from my home. It felt fun having a true friend who understood how hard things were. Often Sami’s mother would raise her hand after drinking alcohol all day. We knew each time one of us turned up to school with bruising or worse that there was more to the story than we told everyone ells. Sami was 2 years older than me and had to look after her disabled sister who was two years younger than her. Often when her mum disappeared for the day/night without a word. This day her sister was out at a care centre while we were alone and after playing house a bit Sami decided it might be fun for her to play mommy and daughter. I was taken back at first but Sami talked me around and I never could say no to her.

Sami disappeared before returning with one of her sisters dresses and what looked like a vest. A second later she told me while I stripped and dressed she would go for the last bits I would need?? I stood there and eyed the dress for some time before picking it up and placing it on over my t-shirt. When Sami returned she looked at me and giggled. “Not like that silly. Look I’ll help you” I didn’t resist I just stood there in awe as I looked at the white tights on the floor. “I shouldn’t wearer this! Dad will kill me” I started to shake, trying to stop the tears coming out of my eyes (as boys don’t cry). Sami pulled my quaking body into a hug and rocked me back and forth while saying “Shhh...... it’s OK, shhh...... come on now.” Until I was a bit more coherent. Once I had calmed down Sami started to reassure me that no one would know besides us. After a while I agreed to carry on as Sami took control and undressed then slipped the dress over me. I was standing there, looking at myself in the mirror when I heard Sami cheerfully saying “now we can start to play”. I was dragged/guided to a small table where there were dolls and a fake tea set all set up. Soon time flew by as we both had a great time, we had played dress up with makeup, tea parties and play with dolls. I was in a great mood when I got changed and headed home.

As I walked through the old door that was half covered in red flaked paint I noticed the smell of alcohol in the air and felt a sudden fear. When I come in and that faint lingering smell of alcohol is around I normally end up getting hurt by either my dad who wants me to man up or my mum who blames me for living in a small two up two down, dilapidated old stone house. I say it’s run down but with all the half attempted bits of DIY throughout. Some places inside are ok, like my bedroom. As it’s fully painted with curtains and the only slight problem is where the damp is on the far wall, causing the paint to turn like a white dust.

I heard the shouting at the TV when my dad walked through to the kitchen to find more beer or whisky or whatever ells we might have. Once he found his all precious drink I was then noticed on his way back so he grabbed hold of me to take me into the front room. I was easily pushed onto the sofa next to him and opposite my unconscious mother. TV was showing Liverpool VS. Manchester unt. . Liverpool was 1-0 up and was favoured to win which was a good thing as Man u weren’t overly liked?? (I never cared for football and still don’t). My father was in high spirits (and lots of spirits in him) so I relaxed and made a show of taking an interest. The game came to a close as my mother was coming around from sleep or unconsciousness.

I greeted my mother with a happy “hi” as she woke up which caused he to look closer at me and made me regret letting my guard down.

“What the fuck are you wearing!!!” she shouted, causing me great confusion.

“Just my clothes” I answered with confused honesty

“You want to get smart with me well I’ll teach you” My mother said as she lurched forward, grabbing my collar. “Now do you want to tell me and your dad what the fuck your wearing!”

“I’ve only got my clothes on mum” I said in a squeal

“What about the make-up? After all the talk I heard about you I guess it’s all right.” My mother screamed as my father took one look at my face and turned to pure rage.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.............” Was all I got out before I was so heavily beaten I was kept off school for the next two weeks.

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I always wanted to dress up again after that but never had the courage. I told Sami what happen and she was so sorry and blamed herself. We remained close and would share all of our secrets and dreams. I got angrier and wanted to lash out over my confusion at others. I spent years trying to live up to what my parents wanted. I would fight every day, set things on fire and even blow stuff up. I was even enrolled into a martial arts class (Wing Chun) that I enjoyed. I had a great instructor who spent time with all his students and helped me clam down for an hour or two on those days. But still I started to drift from the girls (or them from me) and had very little friends. I only had people follow me for protection. After 3 more years Sami moved away and I felt like part of me had died. I had learnt not to cry from any pain but that night there were streams of tears silently running down my face.

I made it to secondary school (11 years old) when I had done a nose dive in how I presented myself. Instead of confidence I appeared shy and withdrawn. I attracted the attention of bullies but no one tried anything as I was now quite fat but quick, for a few months anyway. We had just finished lunch when two boys cornered me on my path to maths through the gym. I looked around for help but there was none coming and I had little worries. As the first punch was thrown I quickly blocked it and got a few dozen focused punches into his face before slamming him on the floor, as the second lad jumped on my back, so I just fell back putting force into the fall. After hitting the floor and winding him I quickly got up to see both on the floor. My anger got the better of me as I took a hard kick to the first boy in the ribs. “Stop fighting now!!!” I suddenly turned round to see the temp. P.E. teacher walking towards us. As the other 2 got up and told the teacher a load of shit, I got in major trouble and was given an after school detention. I tried to argue but he said he also had seen everything and for me to stop lying.

3.15pm and the school bell rang and I was off to my detention as every one else made their way home. I walked into the changing room where the teacher was waiting with a set off shorts and school t-shirt to wear. I was told to change. As I did so I had gotten my t-shirt off and shoes as I took my trousers off I suddenly noticed what I was wearing. As a look of anger flashed across the teachers face I quickly pulled my trousers back up. He grabbed my arm and started to rip my trousers off as I struggled like mad against him. “YOU FUCKING GAY PICE OF SHIT....... YOU LIKE GIRLS CLOTHES”. I snapped back with anger in the struggle “YE SO. NOW LET GO OF ME !!!!!” I shouted before kicking him in the shin. With a gasp he let go for a split second before I started to run for the door.

I felt a large hand grab my arm and was spun round to an angry looking teacher. In a more calm voice he began talking to me after apologising, after long I had let my guard down a bit but was still trying to get out of there when he said “I won’t be mad but have you ever had thoughts about being a girl ??” I looked at him hesitantly before he said “I take that as a yes”. I looked at him in shock before saying “No I’m a boy” with a laugh he told me not to lie and said “I think your problem is you don’t see the advantages of being a boy and the disadvantages of being a girl. I will show you now if you like” I looked at him and thought he was trying to help me figure things out when I agreed. I was picked up and forced over the bench when he says “I will let you be a girl now and see how you like it”.

After he told me that no one would believe me over him and if I did say something he would tell everyone in school and left me shaking on the floor. After a long while I got up slowly looking around me at the wooden benches with back stands for hanging clothes on. I took a few breaths of body odder filled air and slowly made my way out of the school grounds with severe pain. With a tear stained face thought of all the terrible things that had happened and how bleak my future looked. I started to wonder through the fields down the other side of the valley with no destination in mind. With all the thoughts running around in my head leading me towards a severe breakdown I had no grasp on time or location. Stumbling through forests to running tracks I found myself standing near the old bridge which spanned from the mainland over to the island. The old bridge was always quiet being as the new(er) bridge had a dual carriage way across with a train track under the road it always made for the quickest route onto the island.

I found myself looking over the side of the bridge off the walk way. What a beautiful and scenic view point. I used to love looking across between the bridges. To the right hand side was a very old church with a pathway which would often flood. With trees both side and little boat house island ahead, then the new bridge. I always wondered why it was referred to as a new bridge when it was so old but after being burnt many years ago it must have been partly rebuilt? Any way now I’m rambling. As I was looking over I decided it would either kill me instantly from such a height or I would drown in the famous current of the straits (part of the sea) below. I was just putting my first foot onto the railing to hop over the side in one quick move when the loud sound of wheels screeching against the road made me turn to see what was happening.

I was looking at 2 cars quickly pulling up and a man running towards me on the pavement. I was slightly stunned for a second before I realised I would have to hurry. I re-secured my grip and launched myself up and over. I felt my body moving forward as my mind was clear and I was finally going to be at peace with myself. No more worries and no more hurt, I would be free.

I felt myself being dragged back as my collar of my shirt cut off my air. I felt the ground slam against my back with the loud thud followed by the back of my head. I quickly looked around at the guy lying near me when I seen my opportunity to get up and run. I could hear shouts after me as I quickly made my way off the bridge and towards the trees for cover. I was out of breath but decided it was best to try another way.

I had been around most pharmacies and chemists to pick up the strongest painkillers (500mg co-codamol and 500mg paracetamol) I could and decided to catch my buss home. I had collected 6 packets which contained 20 pills each.

I got home to a cold and damp house and decided to take my time to write a letter. Once I realised I had not bag with my school supplies in it I managed to find an old envelope and a black pen. I tried to think of what to write for so long until I just couldn’t find the words. I thought of the one person in my life I would miss and that was Sami my rock and best friend. As my eyes watered thinking about her I couldn’t think what to say that would make her understand. I was just sorry that I couldn’t be there for her any more like she was for me, for all those years. So I just wrote

“SORRY SAMI I JUST COULDNT DO IT NO MORE”

After going downstairs and finding a half full bottle of vodka I took it upstairs and then took a few swigs. I emptied all 120 pills out and started to swallow them 3-5 at a time with a swig of that foul vodka. I had finished all of them and 40 min later I was feeling dizzy and lay down. I was finally at peace with myself and lay there with a faint smile.

I awakened to being incredibly sick but all I could vomit was bile and my body was covered in sweat. With constant shaking and a headache that felt as though my head would either explode or burn, I was in a terrible stat. It was only 3-4 hours later from when I had felt fuzzy??? I should be dead??? I wish I was!!!!