What I really want is parents. Real parents.

A real dad, because I never had one. And a real, caring mom instead of that waste of oxygen (https://devrant.com/rants/9940652/...) whose body was my dwelling for nine months once upon a time.

But it’s not quite “me” who wants supportive parents, is it. It’s past me. Past me, with different pronouns, different body that isn’t covered in ugly scars (because of my mother), entirely different mindset.

Too bad, there is no past me anymore. He’s dead. It’s too late.