I associate crushes with dread
A sinking feeling
Even as a child, choosing a crush was a source of anxiety
I chose the boys I wanted to skateboard like
And steal the smiles of
That's not exactly true
I'm retroactively choosing information to fit my current narrative
I'll try again
We all want to be liked
And feeling like one of the guys
And liking those same guys
Has always been entwined for me
There's electricity for me in that safety
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 11:43 PM UTC
i) One day I was looking around and trying to be like all the girls around me
ii) And then one day I stopped looking
And started doing what I wanted, and wearing the things people I was attracted to were wearing.
iii) And then every boy I was ever drawn to became absorbed into my identity.
iiii) I will become satisfied when I am a chameleon and a kaleidoscope of these masculinities
...Or when I become too exhausted by the process and am satisfied with the journey.
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC
My thoughts of suicide are not that I want to die
It's a grasping for a lack of existence
It's so ****** up to have two things like that coincide
For something to be both your worst fear
And everything you want in the same moment.
And I think I just described my love life.
The fight for and fly away from instinct.
So a lot of my relationships were just freezing.
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC
My body and I don't talk much anymore
But every night's a one night stand
Where brief connections are where we can barely stand to meet
My emotions and I haven't been on good terms lately
What does that say if I can't even understand me?
I hold genetics responsible for my obsessive tendencies
I think hyperfixation runs in the family
My father hoards movies
And I could count more DVDs
In our basement than words he ever ******* said to me
My brother liked rubix cubes
So he learned how to solve one in under a minute
Only took him 3 days
And I'm pretty sure the only language I ever spoke belonged to fiction
Is there a word for love that's obligatory?
The place in your chest where the hearts supposed to be?
Nothing is more my catnip
Than gay fiction
Because nothing is so enticing and foreign to me
Than love between men
Something so close to me
yet so out of reach
When I fall in love
I make a point to keep that person at a distance
Proximity breeds diapointment
And the less I know
The less I have to stop loving
That may sound tragic
But it hasn't hurt so far
Ignorance is not bliss
but it IS fleeting
It is temporarily uncomplicated feelings
Let's ignore the divorcé I've become from my body
Let's talk about my social anxiety
In public
where there's a target on my back and the darts are her and she
Let me believe
Pray one day that when I hear strangers say he
I think
I believe
they mean me
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 11:37 PM UTC
With your weight ontop of mine
Dragging tentitive fingertips along your spine
And my palms pressed against the warmth of your back
Your hands in my lap
I feel you shiver
And something in me aches to react
I can't help it
I can't help it
I say: "be tame"
But it blooms
I turn to inhale at your neck in the crook
I try to be subtle
and you pretend not to notice me look
Just rest your head on my chest
And pretend not to notice me
A quivering wreck
Heart a live wire
Is this what we are now?
A mask and a mirror?
A show for no one in the room.
We play straight for no audience.
And despite the struggle
Everything I try to muffle
It still blooms.
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 11:33 PM UTC
Ive mastered the art of hiding my body from myself
Not seeing myself naked even in the shower
Only seeing my face in the mirror
And washing myself with a cold, impersonal, clinical touch.
Being surprised new chest hair grows back
After I last plucked it from between my *****
because I haven't looked down in so long.
I learned a long time ago by body wasn't for me
But was a flesh coffin for my soul to lie in
For this pretty boy to die in
And pretty down so the outside world would stop calling me she
And being he hasn't been cheap.
Im in the process, now, of learning that it's never enough
No matter what you give to cis-ciety
To abide by their standards
You will still be catcalled
Still asked on the first date about your surgery
Still referred to as Miss with your sideburns and mustache and low octive voice.
Theyre so hungry
their nonsense says feed me
Stop wearing make up
Dress uncomfortably
Try harder
Just to please me
But they will always find a reason to kick you out of the men's restroom.
And even if they dont
Even if they smile and call you sir
Even if they ask your **** size on the first date instead of what's between your legs
Even if they ignore you on the street because youre wearing pants instead of skirt.
You wonder what they would have said to you 12 months ago
When estrogen had softened your jawline
When mac tinted your lips
And you could still hit the high notes in that song on the radio.
Would they have called you sir then?
Do you feel any more safe
washing your hands in the men's room
Waiting to be caught?
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 11:32 PM UTC
Left to your own devices
You know what the price is
Obsess on the horror that awaits you
Anyone on the inside and outside, those ready to erase you
Think of all the pain and blame
All the time they take and it takes you
And takes you a little bit longer
Think that trauma makes you stronger
Makes you a little bit harder
To relate to
And they hate you
Wait to break you
After years no break through
Everything you
every accomplishment is fake
Any time you thought you were great
Just get blocked when they discriminate
Say your oppressions your own fate
It's your life at stake
No matter how little time you take
You'll always be late
And what a cute little almost boy you could have made
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
There's a very specific sort of shame
that follows joy
when you're abuser is nice to you
It trails behind a
seemingly inexplicable burst of happiness
Dragged in between the inciting incident
and the recognition that this is just a diversion
and you let yourself be fooled again
This is the high before the fall
This tastes like good memories
because they've succeeded
in drowning you in misery
A small gesture feels like a life preserver
A door you think they'll share with you
But they're not at your side wading through the tide
They pushed you in the water in the first place
But when they hold out a buoy
A kind word
An ugly type of hope
You don't remember that
This is the type of happiness that comes with hooks
With strings attached
You're the marionette
And they'll you drag out
only if you just wrap them back around your limbs.
And you are tempted by a
familiar and convenient kind of amnesia
When I look at things
in the grand scheme
I'm not so sure this was the person
I was supposed to end up being.
Generally scared and distrustful of other people
Hard
Prickly
Sometimes I feel so stagnant and unheard
My writing feels like my last will and testament
It's easier to keep secret
Than to talk too much
And realize no one cares
People only want to hear your darkest desires
When they've coerced it out of you
When they're pulled from you against your will
There's something so tasty about reluctance to them
And my bed holds me hostage
No longer a sanctuary or place of rest
It weighs down all my decisions
And wraps up my never quiet head
It embraces me so tenderly
In what can only be described as a choke hold
And my hands get so cold
In the dead of winter
I took my heart off the shelf
But in the dead of winter
I find it so hard to care about anyone else
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC
Confession:
I'm not entirely a boy.
I'm in between genders right now.
Somewhere found in the cracks and crevices
underneath our ever crumbling binary.
A toss up between a proud queer girl,
and a fairy gay boy.
Yes sir,
But not a man.
Along the lines of
Prince and Princess,
Both King and Queen.
Don't call me a *** or **** -
Call me Genderfuck.
A concept you can't quite pinpoint,
At least it's an accurate depiction of your ignorance.
Genderpunk;
an identity wrapped up in style.
Androgyne -
A word that is not entirely girl
Not entirely boy,
But has elements of both.
I'm pushing away from women
when people put it on me.
It's dysphoric and uncomfortable.
So I run towards guy,
Phonetically and conceptually.
I want something other than human,
Not exactly person,
Alien, celestial or ethereal being
of which there is no words necessary.
Something...other.
But Agender rejects the concept entirely.
And I do not want to abandon the idea
that there is a word out there for me.
A community like me.
And before I hear any rhetoric about
having 'too many labels',
Let me just say:
If cats have taught me anything,
There is a huge difference between
Being put in a box,
And putting yourself in a box.
My ideal gender is something like feeling
part women, part dude -
not entirely male -
and part non-binary,
All simultaneously.
This may come as a surprise
But I do not deny my lady-like qualities.
I see strong, realistic female
representation
And I rejoice.
I feel part of that team.
I experience sexism and misogyny,
and I recognize how others perceive me;
as a girl.
Well in the context of a girl on girl relationship
Girlfriends doesn't seem that bad.
Being a butch lesbian,
or gay girl -
a feminine boy,
bisexual guy.
Though, I'm never a man.
Just something dancing along the edges,
Picking and choosing the flowers I am drawn to.
Ultimately something queer.
I want more access to words,
different types of non-binary,
A broader third category.
Six, Eleventh and,
Twentieth gender options.
Otherwise I'm caught gendering myself, always.
God or Goddess?
Mermaid or Merman?
Sure there's also merperson, merbabe,
godev, princev...
Referring to oneself - zeself?
As a magical being works.
Fae, Faerie,
Fae, Fem(me), Faer
pronouns would be cool
I just don't want to fully surrender
to being a girl.
Even though I know
there's no shame in it,
it still feels wrong,
It's misgendering
when I'm called "Miss" or "She".
I feel like crawling out if my skin
when I'm being forced into anything
womanly
Even though I have no
real quarrel with the concept.
I'm just uncomfortable with pronouns
and all the words around it.
I am anti-girl, negagirl,
the opposite of female
but not necessarily guy.
I am running away from cis-ness,
Cis-ciety.
And that's okay,
It's absolutely alright to feel this way.
The world told you what you were entirely
Based on your reproductive organs,
And doesn't that just sound a little funny?
Being trans doesn't have to mean
being at war with your body.
It doesn't mean you're born into a special group
A cool club, where others are barred access.
It means thinking critically
and wanting to redefine, redesign,
The way you are seen,
The way you see yourself,
and reclaim something
that was taken from you.
Folx, gender is fun.
It is fluid, and it changes,
it ages,
It starts to mean different things.
What you feel for now
doesn't have to be forever.
Move past the boundaries
others have set for you.
I encourage you to find your own
Trans doesn't have to be right
or wrong for you,
That's up to you to discover.
Just know you have options.
There's 7 billion people on this planet
So that's the possibility for 7 billion genders
And sexes.
Yes, that's a spectrum too.
***** and ***** are not the only thing
That defines you.
Think critically about the things
people have force fed you.
As for me,
I am a different breed of dude.
Not dad or father,
nor lady or daughter.
I fit with brother, guy, sir & gentlemen.
Call me fae, goth, punk, merhunk
and royalty.
Today I am a blank slate
A canvas I always have the potential to recreate.
Call me Damon.
That is my gender of the day.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
I am a guy.
Just a guy.
Not an "ummm...technically."
or "biologically female."
Not: "used to be a girl",
"Thinks she's a guy",
"Doesn't dress like a boy",
"What she got between her legs?",
"Wears makeup",
"Doesn't pass"-
**Gender norms literally **** people**.
Every "I'm sorry" is just a peeling paint job
over an intercity wall,
no one really wants to look at,
or fix,
or admit to.
This is not a problem I brought on myself.
My gender is not a problem,
You are the problem.
I'm not running from what's inside me anymore,
I know what's inside me,
I've made peace with what's inside me
It's the same old, same old,
with a new set of words
you ******* can't wrap your tongues around.
I don't care if you slipped up,
Fix it.
I don't care if you didn't know I was a boy,
Fix it.
I don't care about your cis guilt, cis excuses, or cis ignorance
Fix it.
Because you don't know the age limit
not to be Emily anymore.
The hundreds of dollars it costs.
Every: "Hello Ladies",
every "Sorry Miss",
every "What can I do for you Ma'm",
every "You'll always be my niece-"
"My daughter",
"My girlfriend".
The cis questions,
cis answers,
cis stares,
cis disinterest in my ******* feelings.
I am not going to hold your hand
and politely explain to you that
I
AM
NOT
MY
GENITALS.
That's your job cis people.
Fix it.
Every misgendering is peeking through the veil
of how people really perceive you.
It's all just a game they play along
with in your presence.
Going along with a trance they think
you've put yourself in.
They don't really see you,
When all it takes is
changing a single word
in one ******* sentence.
That would be no inconvenience to them,
But makes or breaks the world to you.
Covering it up with a strained smile,
Lying that it's fine.
Is it even a question that over 70%
of trans people **** themselves,
as opposed to 1% of the general population.
It makes so much ******* sense to me.
Because trans means knowing
I will never be properly gendered by a stranger,
Unless I get a **** I don't ******* want.
Being trans is waking up everyday
with the guarantee you can not
use the bathrooms in public.
Can't be called a guy
Hearing: "Emmett? That's a weird girl's name."
Having people ignore you
When you're on the verge of tears
begging them not to see
your soft curves and small chest and skirt
as one big sign that says 'SHE'.
Then being told:
"It's not their fault,
people just don't know."
"You have to be more understanding,
more patient -
be nicer about it."
How 'bout applying that to yourself?
Don't tell me I have to be kinder
about being denied my identity everyday.
Don't tell me to shut up about a system
so ingrained in my brain
I still misgender myself.
It's gaslighting,
A society denying reality
And telling us we are the confused ones.
The crazy ones.
For veering outside these neat little boxes
ahem, cages
of made up rules
they've tried to lock us into.
The consequences are absolutely deadly.
Is it any question
That people bleed themselves dry
Get drunk, get high
just to escape it all?
Then get thrown into a 'health care system'
for attempted suicide,
get misgendered by the nurses and doctors
who ignore why they're there in the first place.
Then denied hormones for their
'mental instability'.
We are thrown into a world of glass ceilings
and imaginary borders
with all too real consequences.
Make no mistake,
We are not dangers to ourselves.
You absolutely put us here.
Blame it on whatever generation or
individual you want,
but we are all participating in cisnormativity
if you are not constantly unlearning.
If you equate genitals with gender,
Ask what the baby's going to be -
As if it ******* matters -
Don't think to ask pronouns and get it wrong,
See every character, every face on TV
that doesn't look like ours,
have everything catered
to the way you turned out to be,
That's privilege is our danger.
The gaps in judgement
and consideration for our situations
is where we live
and our destined to fall.
Because when someone hits you with a car
It doesn't matter of they didn't see you,
didn't mean to,
have never done it before,
are the nicest person in the world -
They ****** up.
And it still hurts.
Sure, if they meant to
it would be worse,
But I'm through with this rhetoric
about intent.
Don't think this is too drastic a comparison,
Gender norms literally kills people.
Every mark of 'self-harm' on our arms
Is a scar society put there.
Every trans suicide is a ******
The question isn't why
we are killing ourselves.
It's how the ****
are we still alive.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 6:31 PM UTC