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I’m looking in a mirror. The glass is a little smudged with fingerprints. There’s a crack that starts in the top left corner that swirls around the edge before halting. A simple reminder of the time I knocked it over. I had been so nervous of what my Zaza and Mam would think.
I look nothing like them. But that’s expected of-course , I'm adopted.
But if I wanted to. I could. I can change my skin to whatever colour strikes me. Add or remove freckles. If I truly desired I could give myself a second head and a third foot if I wanted.
I don't shift as much as I used to. I can't bring myself to change my appearance anymore. The thrill of being someone else has dulled over time.
Looking in the mirror, I don’t think I recognise myself. I know logically, that of-course it's me in the mirror. But Is it me?
No one knows what I was originally . I was just found one day. It’s a pretty good bet that I had shifted when I was found. I don’t remember the exact justifications. It was years ago when my Zaza told me.
Who am I? What am I? I-I could be anything! Being a shifter makes my dna too unstable to do any stupid ancestry tests. I could be of any race, any religion, culture, practice. I don’t know. How am I even supposed to figure that out!? Did I even start out as a human? What if I'm actually a shifter cat that learned to be a human?! What if I have bio children? What heritage do I give to them? What heritage can I claim to belong to?
The peoples of Alkebulan? With their diverse culture and beautiful 4B hair? Their diaspora has reached the four corners of the globe.
Maybe the peoples of Zhōngguó with their expansive history , advanced technologies and their dazzling traditional clothing? They had large trade routes that reached almost everywhere.
What about the peoples of Uthuru, otherwise known as Kurrek, Biik or Barna? . Their ancient culture of 50 millenniums. Their rich religion , full of creatures and magic.
Could I be from them? My skin changes of each race I can think. None of them look right. No matter how much I poke and prod at my body, it doesn’t once look right.
A broad nose with skin that looks like the earth after a spring rain, 4b hair and beautiful eyes that are so dark the iris melts into the pupil.
Paler skin, that looks like the sun shining on young snow. Eyes bluer than a lagoon , with stark stripes of green and brown like seagrass around the pupil.
A broader stature, more defined cheek bones, hair in a messy braid.
Darker skin, flatter nose, tattoos around my arms to my face.
Okay, Okay- Think outside the box..
Dark thin hair into a bun, scaly green skin, webbed fingers, long slender tail
A rounder body, more rolls of fat, a round face
A slender body so thin my ribs make imprints on my skin. A longer ghoulish face
A muscular body, red scaled legs and arms, horns, large wings and sharp teeth
More eyes, a mouth of fangs and large crooked wings of feather and skin
My skin hurts. My fingers burn and my feet tingle. I have a nose bleed. I shift back. Neutral grey skin, purple-brown splodges of vitiligo across the bridge of my nose and over my body. Blue eyes and green sclera. Black hair in chin length fairy locks.
This doesn’t feel right. But this body feels comfortable. Natural. Correct and wrong at the same time.
I sit on the floor. It’s wood. I picked it out myself three years ago. It’s a familiar cold. The bare skin of myself in front of my cracked mirror, on my wood floor that is forever cold. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. Blood smudges along my upper lip.
I have a headache. You’re not supposed to shift so much in a short time. My Mam will have a fit when she and Zaza get home. I don’t care to worry about that now. I’m cold , and hungry and tired.
I stand up, im shaking. I laugh a little. This worsens my headache. I want to put on clothes, turn on the heating and have a biscuit. Instead I look at myself in the mirror. I can do those later. I flop onto my mattress, roll the duvet around me like a cocoon.
I don’t feel tired anymore. Just fatigued . Fatigued and disappointed . I smell blood, but my body doesn’t tingle anymore. Just a vague acknowledgement of my body.
It’s too early for this. I can have an identity crisis later.