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.