Indigo’s Flowers
I always knew I was different.
Before I could even talk, I wanted to try on pink, frilly dresses just like my sister, or wear bright red lipstick just like my mom.
I wanted to be a princess.
But for some reason, no one thought I was.
They put me in buttoned up shirts and bibs that said “Mommy’s Little Boy.”
Boy? I wasn’t a boy... was I?
When were they going to realize that I was a girl, a princess?
I hated being a boy.
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