After starting high school; Ii became more obsessed with making sure no one found my secret became ten times as hard once my "breast area" came to full size. Every morning before I went to school I would use a breast binder to flatten my chest; so at least I could look male. My close friends were still close, but we made other friends so it wasn't just us anymore. I was no longer the talk of the school that everyone wanted to know about, now I faded into the higher up social class students. After discovering my condition, my parents filed for a divorce. I've become one of the asshole populars, my parents got a divorce, and I had female breasts; at the time I thought my life had become a bad movie that only an awful T.V station would play. I began to sink into a deep depression that was so intense it became tangible to other people. Shoji was the first of my friends to notice there wasn't something right with me, but of course I even when he confronted me I didn't tell him about my parents or my condition. After time more people noticed my depression then word began to spread. Some people began to conger up the idea that I was suicidal or I'm just Emo and not telling anyone. Sometimes walking to my next class I could hear people whisper things about me, although I didn't pay much attention to those kinds of people. During the night around 9:00 I was on my computer looking up the symptoms of my condition. Hour after hour I searched the topic, with only the answer of HERMAPHRODITE; apparently I'm a mythical creature in the eyes of the world. As I began to feel sleep tugging at me, I saw one more site; Intersex society. After reading each highlight, article, and magazine cover I knew that there were others with this condition. I was no longer alone. The next day at school I got more stares and people still whispered about me, but I still didn't mind. Over the short period of week after seeing the site, my depression started to lighten and fade away. I began to embrace the term intersex to the point of I could look at myself and no longer hate what's on my chest. I had peace with myself; I had it at least for a month before my shirt got stuck on an escalator while on a field trip to museum.