The world spun around me as I fell to the ground. I had spent the whole night watching the latest livestream of my favorite streamer, but right now, that's really hard to think about. All I could think of right now was how much pain I was in, as my head felt like it was splitting down the middle, and a nail of hot iron was being hammered into the base of my skull and temples. Most would think you're being over dramatic; you stayed up too late, and maybe you didn't eat last night. But I was born like this. I would experience headaches almost every two days. As I grew up, everyone would brush off any alignment I had. They would tell me to be a man and walk it off, so I lived with the pain till I was in my 30s, where when I went in for a Basic check-up and was told I needed an MRI scan. Where I learned I had a tumor in my brain that was inoperable. And was told I would die within the year. I lost it and tried to live my life to the fullest with the time I had left, but the headaches started coming quicker and harder to the point I would end up chained to my bed for the whole day. In my last moments, I watched the streamer dance and sing on stage without a care in the world and cursed the world for giving me this weak and dying body, wishing I could live like that. As the world finally goes black, I feel myself slip free from my body.
I floated in the void for what felt like years. Till I felt a pull in myself and started falling into the void, which I found logically hilarious. When I started having feeling in my fingers again, panic enveloped me like a blanket as I knew that I at least should be in heaven or hell. I flex my hands and feel the sensation in my fingertips travel to my hands, down my arms, and to the rest of my body. Till I hear myself gron in a paine. As I turn over, long red hair falls into my sight. I look at it in confusion as I have short brown hair. As I place my hand down to lift myself up, I again see a foreign hand in front of me. The hands I was used to were big and hairy, with cuts and straps from all the hard work and labor I had done over the years. The hands in front of me are delicate and small with no scrapes or even a callous, and the nails were perfectly trimmed. As I look up, I see that the arm is thin and long with blond hair, making it look hairless. I swing my legs over the edge, seeing my slender legs with thick thighs. And small feet at the end with perfectly trimmed toenails. My mind races at all these little clues, and my hand shoots to my crotch as I let out a sigh of relief as I'm still a man. I fully stand up and head to a nearby mirror to look at myself. What I see is surprising, to say the least. My fear of being a girl was well founded as the face that stares back is one of the most androgynous faces I have ever seen. It's honestly tough to tell if I was even male or female, just on my face alone. I have a smooth, unblemished face with a round jaw and a small nose with pouty lips. My eyes are large, with long lashes, but the eyes that stare back are familiar. They are my own Central Heterochromia eyes, which are distinctly two different colors, blue and green. With the sapphire blue in the center ring and an emerald green in the outer ring. As I do a slow spin, I see my body could pass for a petite girl or a thin twink boy.
I finally pulled myself away from the mirror and looked around the room. It was a small loft-style apartment with a small bathroom with only a sink, shower, and toilet. The kitchen was only 10 steps from my bed, and the TV was an old-style tube type hanging on the wall facing my bed. This place was a crapy low-rent apartment, and even the view outside the window was just staring at a wall of another building. I kept looking around the room, noticing that there were dirty clothes everywhere and dishes piled high in the sink.
I walk into the bathroom and see that it is just as disgusting as the rest of the apartment, making me reluctant to use it. I brush my teeth and take a shower, trying to shake myself awake. "God, I can't believe I was reborn. And what's with this body? It's so small and flexible, " I say as I wash my hair.
As I dry my hair, I look for any clean clothes in this dirty space. I find a loose shirt that's a little too short, showing off my toned midriff. The underwear looks a little old but smells fresh. Then I saw a pair of skinny jeans that are more like capes and a pair of vans. Then, I really try to find some info on who I am or where I am.
The first thing I find is a wallet, and I discovered my new name was Haze Moore, born on January 7, 1997. Looking at the date on the bill sitting on the counter, it is May 1, 2015, meaning I'm around 18 years old. Based on my ID, I am from Texas, but my bills say I'm in California. I'm in the Hollywood area or on the outskirts of it. Looking around at my surroundings, I can tell I didn't come from money or ran away, but why? I find an old iPhone in the bed sheets. And luckily, his phone had a fingerprint lock on it.
As I look through old messages, I see names of friends and family, but only 3 of the friends have been texted in the last 2 days. And for family, the most recent text came from my mother, but I didn't text back. But it looks like I stopped texting about 3 months ago, which would be around my 18th birthday. I read through my mother's text and found she worries about me and keeps asking where I am and to come home. But before I left, there were nothing but arguments about religion, school, and about me being gay as I came out to my family on my birthday. "that's why I'm in this dinky apartment, but for a gay kid, he seems to have no cleaning skills or Fashion sense. I read through the rest of my text and found Proof to solidify my ideas.
So, my new name is Haze Moore. I'm about 18 and 3 months old. I am gay, or at least Bi, now, and I ran away from home because my father kicked me out of the house for being gay. And the rest of my family joined him in turning on me, as they shunned me and cursed me. My mother regrets pushing me away but still believes I'm in the wrong, that I'm just confused, and that I need to come back so they can "help" me get over my confusion.
I then go through my friend's text and find that he might have died after a party from an overdose. as they all texted me to see if I was okay and even some from this morning. But I must have, or he must have died this morning or sometime last night. As I go through them, I see one of the three is a girl, and the other two are guys. The girl's name is Amber, and from the text, I can tell that they are good friends at least. The two guy's names are Stefan and Rowan. Stefan gives off that super flamboyant style of being gay. But as I read his text, it's mostly an act or defensive mechanism, but I could tell they were also good friends. But Rowan, well, they are friends, but he was a little more than that based on the photos of his dick and the flirty and not-so-flirty text. Which makes me blush at its size and language. But just from the nonflirty conversations, they are casual. They can talk about whatever they like and find common ground. I lay back on my back and sighed in frustration, unsure what to do next.