nikita {twelve} finished
Feb 21, 2017 10:21:48 GMT -5
Post by ♛ scandal on Feb 21, 2017 10:21:48 GMT -5
Female | 18 | Brenda Song
Nikita "Nick" Lauzon
Nikita "Nick" Lauzon
Ever since I was a child, I identified as a boy. Growing up I always wore my brother's old clothes, and my mother got fed up with it. My father was fine with it saying, "She'll grow out of it, honey." So far I haven't. At 18 years old, I still Identify myself as male, not female. Growing up, moles and pimples formed on my skin, I did my best to get rid of the one's on my face, but I didn't do much to get rid of the pimples on my arms and legs. I tried my best to wear my brother's more baggy clothing to hide them from view. My body felt like it wasn't mine, growing up like it didn't belong to me. Around 12, breasts started forming, and I freaked out. "I'm a boy, not a girl!" I said that a whole bunch of times. Around that age, I thought I was half boy and half girl, but that would be weird, so I crossed that off the list of explanations. During my younger years, my mother told me that my eyes look like a lost puppies. I always smiled and laughed when she said that, because it was true I was lost in the maze of finding myself an identity.
My nose is quite slender and is quite round at the end. I personally don't hate my nose, but I don't like it either. For starters, it is kind of hard to see over the top of my nose, so when I am trying to look down it is hard to see over my nose when I am just moving my eye's downward. My lips aren't supposed to be formed like this. My lips round and fat, like a girl's, but mine should be short and thin, like a boy's. My lips also have this glossy tint to them that makes me look a girl even more, but I am not a girl, I am a boy. My arms are pretty thin but have a little muscle to them. The baggy, old sweaters I wear usually cover up the little muscle I have. My legs are a pretty thin because I personally don't like sports like the other boy's do. Whenever I look in the mirror, the feature that stands out to me the most is my eyebrows. A dark brown colour, like my hair, and it looks sleek and the way it arches just makes it look hot, girls should be all over me.
My hair is the part of me that I wish I could change the most, except remove the breasts. My hair has not been styled the way I want it to, it is not the haircut that I want. I want my hair to be like a pixie cut, but my mother makes me keep it long, but the thing I do is but it up in a bun, and try my best to hide my hair. Most people think I am weird, because when they call out girl's and boy's team I always go stand with the boy's, then the teacher or the coach, whoever is teaching me gets a little agitated and makes me go stand with the other girls. My hands are actually medium-sized and pretty rough, do to me just staring out into the wilderness rubbing my hands against tree bark every day. I personally like my hands, but my mother says it's not hygienic and is not something a lady should be doing. I scowl at her every time she says that because that agitates me and really makes me want to slap her, but a man should never hit a woman or a girl, so I don't.
My nose is quite slender and is quite round at the end. I personally don't hate my nose, but I don't like it either. For starters, it is kind of hard to see over the top of my nose, so when I am trying to look down it is hard to see over my nose when I am just moving my eye's downward. My lips aren't supposed to be formed like this. My lips round and fat, like a girl's, but mine should be short and thin, like a boy's. My lips also have this glossy tint to them that makes me look a girl even more, but I am not a girl, I am a boy. My arms are pretty thin but have a little muscle to them. The baggy, old sweaters I wear usually cover up the little muscle I have. My legs are a pretty thin because I personally don't like sports like the other boy's do. Whenever I look in the mirror, the feature that stands out to me the most is my eyebrows. A dark brown colour, like my hair, and it looks sleek and the way it arches just makes it look hot, girls should be all over me.
My hair is the part of me that I wish I could change the most, except remove the breasts. My hair has not been styled the way I want it to, it is not the haircut that I want. I want my hair to be like a pixie cut, but my mother makes me keep it long, but the thing I do is but it up in a bun, and try my best to hide my hair. Most people think I am weird, because when they call out girl's and boy's team I always go stand with the boy's, then the teacher or the coach, whoever is teaching me gets a little agitated and makes me go stand with the other girls. My hands are actually medium-sized and pretty rough, do to me just staring out into the wilderness rubbing my hands against tree bark every day. I personally like my hands, but my mother says it's not hygienic and is not something a lady should be doing. I scowl at her every time she says that because that agitates me and really makes me want to slap her, but a man should never hit a woman or a girl, so I don't.
*
My father calls me stubborn a lot. I get why too. My mother constantly tells me I am a girl and I should start acting like a proper lady or I would get nowhere in life. I always come back with, "No." Because deep down, I am a boy and she knows it too. She always gives me a stern look every time I answer. She hates me, I can tell. I hate her too, and I know she knows that If I wasn't a boy, and I am, I would have knocked the shit out of her so fast. Typically, I am not a violent person.I don't actually like
violence, to begin with, but when I get angry or someone flares me up, you better put up a good fight, because Nick is going to hurt you so damn hard. I try to avoid getting flared up because It can get nasty when I am going into that "mode" I don't like that "mode", but I guess it is one of the perks of having a fucking idiot for a mother and being a boy. When people point at me or look at me weirdly, it makes me angry, but I try my best to fuse the bomb that could explode if I get too angry. Weird thing is, I haven't gotten into that many fights, when a girl gets me mad I shrug it off, but when a boy gets me mad I'll punch, kick him until he won't be able to squirt his egg.
My father calls me neurotic a lot too. I can see why, sometimes, but not all the time. Sure, yes I can freak out very easily about little things, like taking a shower in front of people, changing clothes in front of people, an essay that we have to read out aloud to the class, but I forgot to do it, those sorta things. When people point to the clothes I am wearing that is when I start to sweat, and I get antsy because I get really scared when people point out the clothes I am wearing. Do they know that I confused with my gender identity because if they know my life will be ruined? I can't let anybody know that I am confused by genders because then I will get teased more often that I already do. I can handle being called weird, creepy, but I cannot handle being called a liar or a wannabe. I don't wanna be anything because I am a boy, just I am confused as for why I am growing breasts. The least of things I am is a liar. I have no lied once in my life, well I probably have, but I try my best not to lie to anyone. I hate not telling the truth because people should know the truth, not a lie or a pre-telling of the truth. The truth. That is what they deserve.
I usually do things randomly. My mother calls it arbitrary, and she treats it like it is negative and that a proper lady should not be like that, well screw her. I do usually do things without any thoughts or reasons why I do them. It is hard to explain why I just do that because it feels the most natural thing. My father said he used to do that as a child, so I think that is where I got it from. I don't have much personality coming from my mother, except that I and she bother stubborn and won't give up that easily in the things that we believe is true. Like she believe's I am a girl, but I believe I am a boy because I am. If she was a good mother shouldn't she support my opinions and what I think I am? I believe that mothers should support the decisions their child makes unless it's super stupid or something that will probably get them killed.
My father calls me stubborn a lot. I get why too. My mother constantly tells me I am a girl and I should start acting like a proper lady or I would get nowhere in life. I always come back with, "No." Because deep down, I am a boy and she knows it too. She always gives me a stern look every time I answer. She hates me, I can tell. I hate her too, and I know she knows that If I wasn't a boy, and I am, I would have knocked the shit out of her so fast. Typically, I am not a violent person.I don't actually like
violence, to begin with, but when I get angry or someone flares me up, you better put up a good fight, because Nick is going to hurt you so damn hard. I try to avoid getting flared up because It can get nasty when I am going into that "mode" I don't like that "mode", but I guess it is one of the perks of having a fucking idiot for a mother and being a boy. When people point at me or look at me weirdly, it makes me angry, but I try my best to fuse the bomb that could explode if I get too angry. Weird thing is, I haven't gotten into that many fights, when a girl gets me mad I shrug it off, but when a boy gets me mad I'll punch, kick him until he won't be able to squirt his egg.
My father calls me neurotic a lot too. I can see why, sometimes, but not all the time. Sure, yes I can freak out very easily about little things, like taking a shower in front of people, changing clothes in front of people, an essay that we have to read out aloud to the class, but I forgot to do it, those sorta things. When people point to the clothes I am wearing that is when I start to sweat, and I get antsy because I get really scared when people point out the clothes I am wearing. Do they know that I confused with my gender identity because if they know my life will be ruined? I can't let anybody know that I am confused by genders because then I will get teased more often that I already do. I can handle being called weird, creepy, but I cannot handle being called a liar or a wannabe. I don't wanna be anything because I am a boy, just I am confused as for why I am growing breasts. The least of things I am is a liar. I have no lied once in my life, well I probably have, but I try my best not to lie to anyone. I hate not telling the truth because people should know the truth, not a lie or a pre-telling of the truth. The truth. That is what they deserve.
I usually do things randomly. My mother calls it arbitrary, and she treats it like it is negative and that a proper lady should not be like that, well screw her. I do usually do things without any thoughts or reasons why I do them. It is hard to explain why I just do that because it feels the most natural thing. My father said he used to do that as a child, so I think that is where I got it from. I don't have much personality coming from my mother, except that I and she bother stubborn and won't give up that easily in the things that we believe is true. Like she believe's I am a girl, but I believe I am a boy because I am. If she was a good mother shouldn't she support my opinions and what I think I am? I believe that mothers should support the decisions their child makes unless it's super stupid or something that will probably get them killed.
*
I was born to a loving father and a bitch for a mother. Growing up in that house was hard. My mother was always mean and strict to me and my brother when we were little. My mother put responsibilities on out shoulders around the age of three years old. We had chores to do, like sweep and dust at an early age. You could tell our father wanted to help us, but he spends most of his days out in the mines, and some days we don't even get to see him. I tried my best to keep up with the chores my mother gave me, but sometimes I just couldn't remember what I had to do, and I had to pay the consequences of not doing my chores. I get now that we need to pull our own weight and help the family, but our mum should have taking care of us, not making us do the hard work while she goes out to town and gets clothes and stuff for herself.I was miserable and tired of working like slaves by the time I was 4. That day, I didn't do any work, and I hid from my mother. She took 3 hours looking for me and when she found me, boy did she do something about it. I had to work an hour extra and I had to miss the next meal we were going to have as a family. At that point on, I hated my mother so much, that sometimes I just wish I could die.
As I grew up, I learned things. I learned things about my mother that would make my father's skin crawl. She was cheating on him with numerous men, and oh yes did I confront her about it. 5 years ago, "Mother!" I yelled to her. She raised her eyebrows when I yelled. Father was still working hard in the mines, and my brother was out with his druggie friends. "I know what you are doing, you disgusting, adulteress!"I yelled. She was taken aback for a second before she snapped back into reality. I straightened her posture and said, "Keep this to yourself or you'll wish you never came out of my uterus." I sneered at her and nodded, "One thing, though, you piss me off your dead." I looked at her and looked her straight in her eye. "I'm not joking, you'll wish you weren't my mother, bitch," I told her while keeping a straight face. I then looked her in the eye again, "Daddy will go mad, mighty mad if he finds out you have been sharing your pussy with other men." I winked at her and headed for my room.
My mother was more lenient with me after that incident. When I was 17, one day I got my father to take me to the mines with him. It was dark and dusty down there. I smiled, it was a boy's dream to be down here. Well, it was mine. I loved the dust roaming the air, the creatures skittering away as we walked down the narrow paths. Fumes wen tup my nose, and I knew this was the place I should be. I should be mining with the guys for coal. I know now that this is the home that I have been needing all along. The narrow shafts, the smell of sweat and fumes, creatures skittering all across the floor. Boy, was this a nice place for me. I wanted to work down here, with the guys and the other people who worked down here. I was 18, I just had to get through my next reaping and I will be able to fully work down here with my father, and actually have a nice life. This is where I belong. When I had to leave, I was kind of distraught. I wanted to stay down there with my father, but he escorted me home and that I where I stayed for the next couple months. I desperately wanted to go back to the mines. Mum wouldn't let me, she was afraid that I'll slip that she has slept with other guys. I was agitated that I wasn't able to go back. 1 day I know I'll slip up and tell him, but now I just wanted to go on with my life and dream about days in the mine.
As I grew up, I learned things. I learned things about my mother that would make my father's skin crawl. She was cheating on him with numerous men, and oh yes did I confront her about it. 5 years ago, "Mother!" I yelled to her. She raised her eyebrows when I yelled. Father was still working hard in the mines, and my brother was out with his druggie friends. "I know what you are doing, you disgusting, adulteress!"I yelled. She was taken aback for a second before she snapped back into reality. I straightened her posture and said, "Keep this to yourself or you'll wish you never came out of my uterus." I sneered at her and nodded, "One thing, though, you piss me off your dead." I looked at her and looked her straight in her eye. "I'm not joking, you'll wish you weren't my mother, bitch," I told her while keeping a straight face. I then looked her in the eye again, "Daddy will go mad, mighty mad if he finds out you have been sharing your pussy with other men." I winked at her and headed for my room.
My mother was more lenient with me after that incident. When I was 17, one day I got my father to take me to the mines with him. It was dark and dusty down there. I smiled, it was a boy's dream to be down here. Well, it was mine. I loved the dust roaming the air, the creatures skittering away as we walked down the narrow paths. Fumes wen tup my nose, and I knew this was the place I should be. I should be mining with the guys for coal. I know now that this is the home that I have been needing all along. The narrow shafts, the smell of sweat and fumes, creatures skittering all across the floor. Boy, was this a nice place for me. I wanted to work down here, with the guys and the other people who worked down here. I was 18, I just had to get through my next reaping and I will be able to fully work down here with my father, and actually have a nice life. This is where I belong. When I had to leave, I was kind of distraught. I wanted to stay down there with my father, but he escorted me home and that I where I stayed for the next couple months. I desperately wanted to go back to the mines. Mum wouldn't let me, she was afraid that I'll slip that she has slept with other guys. I was agitated that I wasn't able to go back. 1 day I know I'll slip up and tell him, but now I just wanted to go on with my life and dream about days in the mine.
Word Count : 2059
