When the witch turned me into a donkey I was, understandably, disheartened. I wouldn’t be able to go to work anymore, I wouldn’t be able to fit through doorways, and every time I tried to speak it just came out as a horrible racial slur. Trying to fit in with the other donkeys was no use, since they all already knew each other and it’s kind of hard to break into a social group like that on such short notice. Unable to express myself with human language, it was comforting to learn that donkeys have a language of their own, even though whenever I tried to speak to them they kept making these comments about my sister. It didn’t take too long to get used to things, though donkey food would be fine if it wasn’t all tapas. Bored and isolated from the others for about three hours, I spent a while trying to see if I could scratch my balls with my tail, but right as I was about to finally do it all the other donkeys started pairing up to go to sleep. ‘Just my luck,’ I thought when I got paired up with Marvin—he was a fat donkey with Crohn’s who had also spent the past three hours alone in the corner trying to scratch his balls. Like all humans, all donkeys also sleep in bunk beds, but for them a “bed” is a patch of hay and a “bottom bunk” is underneath another donkey. As we drifted off to sleep and Marvin’s hooves dug into my jaw, I thought about what a crazy journey this had all been. It had already been six years! Suddenly from inside the stable I could see my old 3rd grade crush Cassie passing by. It may have not been the ideal situation, but I knew I would never forgive myself if I didn’t tell her how I really felt about her. I reared up on my hind legs and called out to her, but again it just came out as that horrible racial slur. Cassie ran off crying and for the past few weeks a guy from Animal Control has been chasing me to try to put me down, but at least I told the truth. Things aren’t great of course, but I know these are all just natural lessons to be learned during a time of transition.