https://ftyler.bandcamp.com/album/morphology
“Shut up!” It wasn’t a gentle suggestion, and there were plenty of other words said that he immediately forgot about as they were. He was 4. He had a hard time adjusting to life behind a new set of eyes, which previously were naive but now understood. It wouldn’t occur to him until he was an adult that the teacher dragging him through the hall was purposely going just fast enough so he would trip and fall every few steps. He could still feel what it felt like every time his ankles rolled and his talus would slam onto the polished concrete tile floor. He didn’t understand what was happening.
Up until then, he had never considered what he was. He had no perception that there was any difference between him and the other kids, but after today he would know he was a bad person, he had become grotesque in all of their eyes. They didn’t understand what was happening, either, but the teacher’s action made it clear. He would embrace that grotesqueness in a vague and unhealthy way. While he let it grow like a mold to encroach upon his self-image and his thoughts about his personality, he would deny everything that seemed right in an attempt to appear normal.
He might have grown out of it, or he might have stayed the same. Earnestly, he wanted to forget his name.