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A Misplaced Soul 

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“Just be normal.”

Those words echo inside your head and you already know it’s going to be one of the bad days. You wonder why you even bothered to get out of bed. Moments like these one has to wonder why we get out of bed at all.

You drag yourself to the kitchen and take a long sip from your mug, its contents nothing as innocent as coffee for years. It has been getting gradually harder to reach that divine numbness these days.

The tremors return, but you know you’re not actually shaking.

You take another big gulp. It’s like your body is shaking from the inside.

Maybe you are sick, perhaps you are dying.

You are not even moderately surprised you find the thought liberating.

“Why can’t you just be like the other boys?” You hear your father say.

It’s cruel that years after he threw you out you still remember his voice. It must be the universe’s twisted way of punishing you for disrupting its perfect balance with your existence.

You make your way to the bathroom. The short distance seems like miles.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and just can’t look away. You stare; lose yourself in the eyes of that strange broken creature in front of you. You want to cry, but you can’t. Your sadness runs deeper than that.

For long moments you stay there still, almost frozen, but your head is buzzing and your mind is screaming in sheer panic.

“That’s not me!”

There’s nothing worse than knowing in your heart that you are one of God’s mistakes; an overlooked flaw existing only in order to highlight nature’s perfection.

A woman trapped in a strange man’s body, an interloper, a misplaced soul.  For the umpteenth time in your life you pray to any deity that might listen that there’s a way to fix you, a way to cure your madness; some sort of lobotomy, a high-tech thought converter; anything to ease the pain and cut through the misery.

Even as you dream of happier days something inside you snaps. The world be damned – you don’t need to conform to their rules.

You are unique. You are special. You are worthy. Even in your darkest moments there’s a voice somewhere inside you chanting those words with so much certainty and passion that they must be true!

Pride and courage flood your chest and you feel your lips turn up ever so slightly.

“Just leave us alone, you freak!”

It’s your brother’s voice now and your illusion of hope shatters.

You feel sick, helpless and just collapse on the cold floor.

Happiness has never seemed so far away.

Should unconditional love be such a commodity?

Is acceptance really too much to ask?

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Emily Psarra lives in Greece. She is currently studying applied mathematics in the National Technical University of Athens and making her first steps as a young writer.

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