Alien. That's what humans call me. But my real name is in fact 'Alan'; however no one calls me that. I'm sure you would call me Alien if u saw me, but I wouldn't blame you. I was born with a rare skin disease called Harlequin Ichthyosis. It makes my skin shed up to 10 times a day, and just happens to make me look like an Alien, I have to admit. My skin is a dark pinkish red colour and all wrinkled up, besides, I don't even have a single strain of hair on my head. Would you say I'm attractive?My life isn't precisely heaven; when my mother gave birth to me she literally screamed and vomited with disgust, later on that evening she fled far far away. Her scream of horror was the last I heard of her. Anyhow I wasn't expected to live, so while doctors fought to save my life, my ...view middle of the document...
He used all the money to fly to Vegas and gamble. I think you can predict what happened after that.I'm 15 now, just in case you were wondering. I'm very much alike any teen my age. I go to high school, but you know how you have that weirdo who picks his nose or farts constantly in the corner alone, well that's me in my class. I'm the Alien. I'm the alien with no friends. I'm the alien who no one talks to. I'm the alien who leaves a trail of skin everywhere I go. I'm the alien who everyone in class has nightmares about…. I'm the Alien.Sometimes I feel as though I'm that big scary lion in the zoo, roaring viciously and no one, including the vets, will come within 20 meters to my cage, but really, it's just a painful splinter in my foot making me cry in pain.I'd like to say I'm innocent. I mean, I haven't really done anything to deserve becoming the butt of all jokes. But what can I do? I suppose I'm considered lucky enough to even be in school although they only accepted me to get in on the press. Occasionally, on extremely bad days when I'm in severe pain both mentally and physically, I ask my father whether or not I'm worth living. He's drunk all the time so he just says his nasty words on how I'm a burden to his life and such, but I try not to take it into account. However, on regular bad days, which is like everyday, I just go to the beach, sit on my favorite rock, and put my legs into the understanding calm blue sea. It can really make my day a whole lot better, well, better enough to keep on living. I like how I can talk to the sea without it yelling at me to go away or looking at me as though I'm a trashy rodent. And somehow, the salt water is supposed to help with my disease. I would say the sea is my best friend, but not the fish, even the fish are scared of me. Can you believe that? Even the fish are scared of me….