When I was four, I had fantasies of being a
beautiful and popular girl.
When I was seven, I realised I was a boy. I cried because I was
a boy and yet I did not look like all the other boys in my
class - I was somehow different. I still had fantasies of being
beautiful and popular.
When I was eleven, I was diagnosed with severe anxiety. I could
not go to school, and left my house on few occasions. I still
had fantasies of being beautiful.
And by the time I was thirteen, I locked myself in the bathroom
and vandalized my flesh because I realised I was ugly.
I now have no fantasies.