Chella Man - Continuum

As soon as I could articulate my choices, I chose to paint my childhood bedroom blue. Looking back, it is clear that this decision was made in favor of the gender I wished to claim. Books and loose papers filled with doodles covered the floorone thing that has never changed. From bed, I gazed up, scanning the edges of my ceiling, watching the blue meet the bare drywall. My body was engulfed by the tangled mess of superhero blankets as my pupils ran laps around the whites of my eyes, cycling through the routine in hopes it would shift my focus from the constant ringing in my ears. It was an eerie pitch, distant yet close, seeming to emanate from my mind.

At times, I wondered if the incessant noise was my own subconscious, passing on a message. Its voice kept me awake, encouraging my futile attempts of translation.

Enough, I thought, swinging my small legs over the side of the bed. Ive never had much patience, although I have learned there are pros to this con. Letting my body drop the short distance from the bed to the ground, I walked down the hallway to my parents bedroom.

Every year, my parents insisted on hanging my sisters and my school photos down this path. Passing them that night, I felt my own eyes follow me, bright from the moonlight. My mom always advised us to sport our favorite shirt each year on picture day. Screw formality, she said. When you look back, youll connect with the clothing you loved.

Naturally, I chose to fill my frames with baggy Spider-Man T-shirts. Empowered to be in clothes I connected with, my smile was genuine. I wish this remained for the school pictures to come.

Reaching my parents door, I cracked it open.

Mommy? I said, rubbing my eyes as they adjusted to the light.

Rachel! Why are you awake? Whats wrong?

She rushed over and crouched down so we were eye to eye. My mom always tried to treat us as equals.

My ears are ringing, I heard myself say.

A crease formed between her brows, and her shoulders softened.

I thought the ringing would have stopped after a week, but Ill take you to the ear doctor tomorrow morning just to be safe, okay?

Okay.

I hugged her hard and retreated to my blue room.

The sky was an empty blue that morning as we sped down the highway toward the Hershey hospital. I watched the telephone poles pass, eyes darting back and forth, saturated fields of green blurring outside my window. We approached a huge billboard with bright blocks of colors and candy-themed cartoons smiling down at us. It read: