"I am Me. In the entire world, there is no one else exactly like me.
Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it - I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself.
I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears.
I own my triumphs and successes,
all my failures and mistakes.
Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me.
By so doing, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts.
-Virginia Stair

School was with lack of a better word: Hell.

I hated it, I really did. Though you might think it was because I didn't like the work – that's not right. I have a hunger for learning that no one could break. I just tended to stay away from other people – or rather: they stayed away from me. I was used to this though; it had started long before my grandfather had passed on. About three of four years before, actually. As I walked through the halls towards my locker I was used to the noises, the whispers, and for some assholes a shove, or a full out push.

I grabbed my books: English 11, Algebra II, and my music. Only things I was good at in this school were two things: English, and band. Not that it really mattered to anyone my grades had fallen from a 4.0 to someone barely making a 2.5. However, no one had ever asked me why.

I strolled into English, thankful when I noticed the substitute and the only work was to finish our essays, and then the rest of the 90 minute class was ours. I finished my essay around the same time she assigned it last week. Mr. Smith hadn't given us a topic but rather we pick something that could be used that troubled us about the world. I liked Mr. Smith since he just got me, ya know? He was a really cool teacher and said nothing when I told him my topic was on Gender-roles in the U.S compared to other countries in the world like China, Japan, and I believe I did a couple third world countries?

"Alright class. Please remain silent as I call roll, and please feel free to correct me if I say your name wrong."
The sub had been the one to pull me out of my thoughts. Subs were cool I mean it usually meant less work for a certain day and you had more time to chill before you had to a class with your normal teacher and thus meaning: Real work. While that was nice and all there was one thing with subs that I hated since well forever: Roll, attendance – whatever the hell you wanted to call it. It was the one thing I hated about subs.

"Marcus Garcia?"

"I'm here."

Damn that meant, damn. He was the only "G" last name in the room and I was the only "H" shit. Shit. Dammit! If she called that name I swear I was going to lose it. I really was. I had my saying it out of habit to mom, but subs? Teachers? No since they always questioned and wondered why I hated a name that wasn't even mine to begin with. None of their damn concern. Another reason to why I hated being 16: People thought age – a number gave someone authority over another.

"Kagome Higurashi?"

I sighed it was always going to be like this, for now anyway. Might as well make this much of a habit as I did with mom. "The name's Kage and here."

"I may be old but I'm not blind sweetie, the name on roll says 'Kagome."

"I understand that but everyone calls me Kage, it's what I'm used to."

"Are you going to answer to Kagome?"

"I just told you my name is Kage."

"Alrighty then, Kagome is absent. I think that's everyone."

The hell did this women think she was doing? I just told her I was here, and she fucking ignored me? The hell was her problem. I didn't want to cause any more of a seen than I already had. I could already hear the kids in the class laughing and making side remarks about what had just taken place. Teh' this is why I hated school. I grabbed my books and essay, making my way to the front of the room. I dropped said essay in the basket before I began to confront the teacher. However, I wasn't trying to be hostile. Yet anyway.

"Excuse me Ms-"I paused there didn't even know the women's name.

"Williams."

"Ms. Williams I understand what the name on the roll says. Though what I said was in no disrespect I just said that my name is Kage and that I am here. So would you mind marking me present?"

"Now why would I do that? The name on the roaster is Kagome and you told me your name is Kage. Maybe if you answered to your own name-"

"You don't have to tell me what I should or shouldn't answer to since that's none of your concern. I tried being nice about it but damn, seriously? Well your right my name is Kage, that also means I don't have to stay in this room so see ya' fucking later!"

I stormed out of the room. The door slammed with a 'bang'. You know those days where you don't have the energy to even deal with people? Yeah, this was one of them for me. I'd been having them a lot. They only really had gotten bad when I reached my freshmen year and have only gotten worse now. I didn't know where I was going to go at first then it hit me: Outta here. I had two band classes today, and after English I would only have Algebra II…yeah it wouldn't matter if I missed school today, wouldn't be like mom would be sober enough to care anyway.

I walked to my locker at a slow pace. Letting my thoughts linger on my past for a few moments but I stopped. I would have plenty of time to think upon that memory when I got the hell outta this school. I put in the combination put my English and math book inside before pulling out my bag. I think I would keep my music book for now. With my bag tossed over my shoulder I silently pondered what excuse I would tell my music teacher about why I wouldn't be in class today.

Reaching the door I thought on an excuse – well it wasn't much of one as it was the truth. "Hey Ms. Fuji." I smiled as I walked into the band room. See I really admired Ms. Fuji a lot she was one of only three female high-school directors in the county and of only ten in the entire country. She was dark-skinned and had these beautiful brown eyes that glimmered whenever she heard good music, maybe that's why she decided to teach in the first place. Though she'll never tell us.

"Kage, where should you be?"

"I donno you tell me?"

"Class. What have you done now?"

I sighed. I really needed a smoke soon or I was going to-well let's just say my stomach would match my wrists from last night. "I did nothing. I'm going home early, it okay I take my trombone to practice?"

She eyed me for a moment but didn't say anything. "It's fine, tell your mother I said hello."

"I will and see you Wednesday." I lied I probably wasn't going to come back this week. Oh well.

I grabbed my horn from the closet and for a moment allowed my hands to run over the smooth ebony case before leaving the room. From the way she eyed me the women probably figured that I was skipping. But she was too nice to tell me not to. Another reason I liked her a lot. She could just look at one of her students and know when they needed to get away or needed someone to listen. Since freshmen she always tried to get me to talk but I never would.

"Teh' Ms. Fuji only if you knew…"

I walked around to the west side of the school and began to climb out the window, there was one connected to both bathrooms. Why they had windows in a high school bathrooms, where children could leave at any time and do as they pleased I'll never know but then again I wasn't one known to complain. I gently placed my instrument case on the ground, and then I leaped after it. Closing the window from the outside.

I just started walking; I didn't really have anywhere to go since mostly everyone stayed away from me. Though I knew of a secret spot cut off it reminded me of an alleyway though it wasn't? All I knew was that no one else seemed to go there. It was perfect for those days when mum and me would fight. I would sometimes end up spending nights there. In the colder months, I would wait until I knew she wasn't home to return or hanged over like no tomorrow the years since the day I found it:

I didn't know what to call it.

It didn't matter to me though. I could be myself there. Away from the world's eyes and misunderstood judgments. That's just what I planned on doing as I crawled through the small space and slid my trombone through the small craves. Reaching into my bag I pulled out a half-empty pack of New Port ™ cigarettes and put the butt between my teeth before lighting it with a lighter. I breathed in the addicting air that I'd known since my 8th year in school. Cancer sticks was a common name for these sources of nicotine but for people like me they were an escape from my life just as my mom's was drinking.

Honestly, could you blame me for now I ended up like this? However I suppose you can't really know what I'm talking about unless I tell you, eh? Taking another hit of a legal drug that'll make me closer to my grave I sighed. I wasn't always this twisted or broken. I used to be a normal kid - or what I could consider normal for me. I just wanted to be like everyone else. But life is a true bitch. Closing my eyes I allowed myself to think upon the more...'happier' moments in my life.

I think I had turned about thirteen when this happened. Yeah, it was around the time of my birthday. Grandpa was still around then. His health could've been better but he was alive and breathing. He was the first person and only one who knew. Grandpa had took me shopping and bought me my very first pair of boxers, and a real Rolf Lauren polo. I remember how I rubbed my hands over the fabric. Like if I didn't touch it.

This happiness would vanish right before my eyes.

They weren't the overly amazing kind, which most boys wore at my school, they were a modest solid black and "Joe Boxer" could be read from the waist band. The polo was small enough for me to wear and not hung from my shoulders, but still be able to wear as I got older. I still owned it, though /thankfully/ I had grew in the years from that day. Though I think of it as a memento, ya know?

Grandpa had said that he was tired of me always being upset with the things that my momma got me. He told me how it hurt his heart that since I was at his knee in height that my eyes always held sadness in their azure pools. So he told me that it was a special gift that no one else could know about. Not momma nor papa. But it wasn't something he didn't need to tell me twice. We'd gone over it time and time again. Ma and Papa didn't like knowing one of their daughters' liked to dress up as a boy, or even state that they were a boy. It was something taboo in mmy religious home then and still was till this day.

So I just made sure they didn't see. It wasn't hard, considering back then Ma worked often late into the night, and Dad would be off on many business trips not returning for days or weeks at a time, at his worst maybe a month or two, although those were very rare. It became even better (or /much/ worse) when Dad had passed on. While I was sad and alone the only thing I had really were the things Grandpa had gotten for me and the nice things Dad left behind. Though Ma took most of them when she found out. I had enough things that I could grow into.
After school, when she was at work and Souta was at daycare. It was just me and Sugar, our dog alone in our house; I'd pull out my special clothes, the ones Ma or Papa knew nothing about and wear the boxers underneath. Though this could only hold me for so long, right? But it kept me together while everything around me was falling apart.

I'd try out my outfits and look at myself in the mirror, frown at the softness of my arms and legs, the curviness of my body, that I hated so much. Frown at my straight-curvy hair. Sometimes I wore a bandana and hat over it, which I let lean to the right a little, covering more of my face. I had once cut my hair and it was long enough to come down to the beginning of my back in corn-rows. That wasn't good enough though. I could easily pass as a guy, but it wasn't good enough. Since I knew that my body was going to grow into someone I wasn't and it wasn't fucking fair.

After I'd criticized myself enough, most times I was on the break of tears, but none never dared to flow from my eyes. I changed back to my school clothes and started on homework. Read, write, and mess with the dog, which was always licking something. I would do almost anything to take my mind off things. By the time Ma came home with Souta in toll, I would already have the urge to dress up out of my system, get my feelings of living a depressing lie out until the next chance came to dress.

She didn't have to see or know; besides I was too scared to tell her, I knew how much she was stressing since Pa was gone and Grandpa too. I didn't want to bother her with something else. Though parents had this way of saying you could tell them anything, but I knew that was a total lie…

See, Ma didn't get it, like most people in my life. Dad hadn't even known. Yet I had a feeling that, if he were /still/ around, he wouldn't approve. Grandpa was the only person who got it. Well I don't think he knew but he tried. Always told me that he had an inkling that…something was off, whenever he took me to the store and I would run to the boys section for everything, games, toys, and shoes it didn't matter what it was, if it was for a boy, I had to have it. He didn't hate me or tell me it was wrong. He didn't force anything on me or support it either. He let me lead and he simply followed. Looking back on it now:

That's all I really want Ma to do.

Grandpa didn't get it, but he tried to understand. At least he tried to understand. That's why I felt like I could just die happy the day he handed me that Polo bag, I think I did die but was brought back just to try them on. He didn't understand it. He just listened to his grandchild. That's what counted, right?

For my fourteenth birthday I treated myself with the money she had given me. That's all I had asked for that year, just money or a Visa gift card. She put the money together for one card with two-hundred dollars I could spend however I wanted. And, of course, I spent all of it on my habit; I mean I always could use the extra clothing that wasn't pink or covered in flowers, or trying to show a chest that I didn't even want there. The first thing I bought was a binder, because I needed it, then. My chest had began developing along with another thing that should go fucken die. I was lucky enough to catch a sell so I got a black and white binder for the price of one! It was totally worth fifty bucks though. I also got a small packer, for when I wore my jeans I could get the weight and appearance of really having something there.

I'd ordered them online, had to steal the package from the mail and smuggle it into my room before Ma managed to see. I also splurged on chains, watches, a suit, jeans, T-shirts and many other things under the sun. I could fit a lot of dads things better now than I could then. His stuff was always nice, high end, especially his shoes. God, that man knew his shoe game and how to wear every single pair. Damn, I was lucky that he only wore a half size bigger than me in men's shoes. I had retros before they re-released them as the retros. I also had a bunch of vans and chucks, since I liked my chuck Taylor's more than the J's and Nike's Dad owned when he was alive.

Now, there's this trunk I have for all of these things, mainly my clothes. Not my every day so called "normal" clothes, my girly clothes. I'm talking about my real clothes. The ones I liked to wear. I had them all folded neatly and stacked away in that trunk underneath my bed. There wasn't a whole bunch. Though compared to the few girly clothes I had to pick and choose over that weren't like overly meant for girls. I had a mountion of those clothes in the trunk.

I had six polo's, committed by that famous polo symbol. Four muscle shirts, with the new binder I could pass of pretty damn well, although if I wanted a truly flat look I would wear them both. One on top of some plain t-shirts. I had close to a dozen T-shirts, obviously meant for guys, eight pairs of skinny jeans and ten of normal baggy jeans for everyday use. Then I had six pairs of shorts and two pairs of shoes, and the Air Jordan Bred 11's.

Oh…and I had my boxers and my white beaters'. I had about two dozen pairs of those; I also had my packer in another bag. All of this didn't take up much space in the trunk, it was fairly large and kind of old and I was forever hoping to expand my wardrobe, mainly for more shoes and snapbacks. Speaking of snapbacks I only had five of them and they are all like my children.

No, seriously, I named them all...don't judge me...

Why am I telling you all of this, you wonder? Maybe you know already and remember what I said before or have forgotten. Well… Because. Someone needs to understand, fully. Not just try to, but actually listen to my story and think about it and understand what I'm talking about, because it's driving me insane. I need to get it out. I'm not talking about the "curing" or other voodoo shit; come on this is complete shit in and of its self. I really do. I mean how hard is it to say I'm a guy? Now, I'm not going to say that I was born in the wrong body since even with everything I can do to change myself. This body isn't going anywhere.

I like to think of it as a few defects that cost a shit load to make right.

I know it's weird. I know that, if people found out, they'd consider me a freak. Most people, I'm sure. I know it's probably better for me not to risk it, to just stop with the dressing up, especially in public, but I don't. It's who I am, so I don't stop. I mean how can you tell someone to stop being who they are? I'm not harming anyone, am I? No, I'm not. So if your only reason is because of some religious shit that not everyone in this country even believes in?

You can shut up and let me finally be happy and become me.

I tossed the cigerate to the ground and pulled out my phone. two-thirty. I sighed. something I'd been doing a lot today and crawled my way out of the ally-like thing. Throwing my bag on my sholder and trombone case in hand I started walking again. School was out now and I didn't really have any place I should go - that was until I saw a flayer.

It was a modest tan with a pink bordor and bold letters that said: Help wanted. It was something about a club. It needed an opening for some girls birthday party. "I got nothing better to lose-" then I read if accepted you got paid twenty bucks by the hour. "I really have nothing to lose." Ripping the flayer off the wall I checked out the address. It was only a bus ride away from the mall.

"Teh' guess someone is lookin' out for me. I even got my trombone with me." With that I guess you could say things were starting to go my way and for once? I thought maybe life wasn't bad after-all. However, when I got to the bus stop one thought crossed my mind:

What the hell am I gonna play?