Chris Tamerthon

Wake up,
Avoid the mirror.
Get dressed,
Grab the right clothes.
Avoid what I want to put on my face.
Put on my smile.
Lie to myself.
Lie to everyone I know.
--
Chris Tamerthon woke to the buzzing of an alarm clock in her ears. She groaned, not wanting to get up- ever. Every day was tiring- smiling for everyone, telling everyone that "I'm in a relationship" when you're really not, but you need to avoid the situation at all costs. Not being able to do anything- not able to have a life. She finally rolled out of bed, stood up and went to get dressed. She grabbed a pair of baggy jeans, almost grabbing her denim skirt by mistake, and pulled them on with a pair of boxers. She pulled on a baggy blue shirt after that, not repeating her mistake, and then slipped into her shoes. She grabbed her hairbrush, running it through shoulder length, dyed blue hair. She wanted to die it pink but she couldn't for the life of her.
Finally entering the bathroom, she groaned. This was the worst part of the morning: The mirror.
She looked at the mirror's reflective surface from a slight distance and finally walked in front of it, not saying a word or uttering a sound she looked at herself.
Completely flat chest, even under the shirt, jaw too strong to wear girl's clothes. Body all wrong.
A man's body. Not a girl's. She was a he. He was a she.
She was born in the wrong body.