The Creepy Little Fellow

The place I grew up in is a dark and humid location. I call it location because home has a warm and tingly connotation that doesn’t seem to fit with the furniture in the room.

I’m a girl, which I found out on the day I thought I was bleeding to death. There are boys and then there are girls. Girls bleed, boys make you bleed… or something like that.

According to the sun, I’m twelve; It isn’t very exciting to be a twelve years old in this place. From the moment people knew how old I was, they began to treat me differently. I was more precious, but less important; most of my friends, particularly the guys, began to look at me as both a goddess and a slave. Such contradictions has been following me for the past two months.

Of course, the blood didn’t help; it became this creepy little devil holding onto my stomach. Apparently, it will bite me every single month for the rest of my life, or until I run out of blood. I wouldn’t complain if it wasn’t for the pain, or the never ending anxiety linked to the creepy little fellow.

Still, creepy fellow aside… I didn’t know that knowing you are a girl would change everything. How could I? My two older brother never had to learn they were boys. They just… WERE. And they are still as precious and god-like as they have always been. Me on the other hand, I changed. Forced by what ever choses to turn children into boys or girls; I’ve never had good luck, So I turned into a girl.

According to my mom, the next step is turning into a woman, but I’m not quite sure that’s for me.