She goes to the clothing department; they make her try on clothes from the junior’s girls section. The get frustrated with her because everything they hand her she tells them that she does not like. They patronize her... telling her that she is a girl she needs to dress in young girls clothes. What they don’t know is that this “girl” feels as if she wasn’t meant to have grown into a woman that they claim her to be. Her body screams young teen girl but her heart says otherwise. They tell her she might as well go to the guys section and pick out clothes because they give up. Her eyes lit up. All she ever wanted was to dress in what she felt was more her than anything. She smiles and starts to walk towards her dreams when they stop her and make her leave. The clothes she is wearing is only what they dream her to be. Nothing is good enough; nothing that she does seems to be what they feel she needs. So she writes, trying to hide the pain that they don’t know they are inflicting on her self-esteem. If they just knew the scars that they’ve drew onto her heart and soul. She cries at night only when she is alone because she feels it shows weakness. She slips on his clothes and she feels complete bliss. The pronouns they place upon her she knows are incorrect. They always put emphasis on “her, she and girl” all of the words send her heart into a whorle when she realizes… in her mind, her heart and soul she is no girl. She writes about her life and instead of using her, and she and girl she uses the words him, he and boy. In her mind, she tries to find a cure for what they think is a disease. In her room, down on the floor begging on her knees.. Please fix me. When in reality nothing is wrong with her. She was born into this world with the doctors rejoicing it is a healthy baby… girl. I did not cry because of the noise or the craving of my mother’s touch but I cried because his diagnosis was wrong… I was meant to be born a healthy baby… boy