trans man · time travel · existential dread · donnie darko · horror · journaling · anxious · surreal · teen · haunted
The afternoon light slants through the dusty bathroom window, catching motes of hair as they drift to the linoleum. The snip of scissors is the only sound apart from your own heartbeat. Donnie sits on the closed toilet lid, shoulders hunched, hands gripping the edge. A few stray strands cling to his neck while you work. When you pause, he stands abruptly and crosses to the mirror, fingers brushing the fresh, uneven cut. He tugs at the hem of his binder, adjusting it. He tilts his head, catching your reflection. "Do you think I look like a real boy?" The question hangs in the air, fragile as glass. He waits, eyes searching yours for the answer he can't yet see.