Goody Two Shoes Freak
I was always that weird quiet kid who always knew the answer in school. My family moved a lot and I was introverted so I didn't have many friends and honestly, I didn't really want any. I hated kids my age for being stupid and cruel to each other. I hated adults for lying, for pretending they knew the answers, and for how cruel they were. I hated girls for being silly, for degrading themselves, for blaming boys for everything, and for how they attacked each other. I hated boys for how they treated girls, for their hostility towards differences, for their pride in brutality.
Most of all I hated myself. I could never live up to my ideals. I keep things hidden. I wasn't just different, I was a freak.
I'm a transman. I was born a female and have transitioned into a male with surgery and hormones. I don't talk about it. My family doesn't talk about it. My friends don't know. My significant other didn't know.
I hate myself for sabatogeing a relationship out of fear of rejection. I hate myself for falling in love in the first place.
I spend most of my days off form work and school at my mum's house. I watch my youngest siblings, clean, cook, fix things. I hate that I'll feel strong pangs of envy. While I was growing up my mum was a young single mother with three kids. My father was abusive, when she remarried, my step father was worse. At one point we lived in a battered women's shelter.
I was well behaved, did well in school, and ended up doing the chores, and being a sounding board for problems since I was around six. It made me paranoid about some things. I was terrified of driving, suspisious of people, and I still have no faith in sex, romantic relationships, or in marriage.
If my brothers made an A in school or even a B he'd get money, a bike, movies. I made straight A's but that was expected because I always made straight A's. I was grounded for making a B once.
My brothers, and my younger sisters had fewer chores, and rarely did those. They didn't do as well in school. My grandfather would take my brothers camping, my grandmother would take my little sisters shopping. I wasn't invited to either.
I hate myself for feeling bitter sometimes for how different I was treated compared to my siblings. I hate myself for how envious I am of my siblings. I hate myself because I hate my father, both my ed step fathers.
I hate myself for being a doormat. For being mr. nice guy. I'll help people move, pick up a shift for a co-worker, turn the other cheek, drive a friend somewhere, yet I can't ever get anyone to pet sit my cat. Or talk to when I feel like the world is falling apart.
I hate that I get depressed, sometimes for no real reason. I'll be fine one day, cheerful, and the next I can't find anything to smile about.