Can you tell me when?
What dear?
When will being yourself be easier that suicide? And don't
call me dear.
Well, let's not talk about that, sit and eat your breakfast.
If not now, then when??
Be still, girl, and when you finish, go comb your hair.
Would you rather I end my own life than to stop pretending to be something I am not?
You now that's not what I mean. And you aren't pretending, you are just being silly. I put some more lip gloss in your purse. The pastor called, he wants to read you some scripters later. And your dad is going to take you shopping for some girlier clothes, those are horrid. Have you seen that nice boy who lives across the street, you should try to get to know him. You two would make some pretty kids. And-
Can you all just.. stop. Maybe it will be clearer when I'm not here for you to accept who I am..
Be quiet, young lady. Pass the butter.
But I am not a lady..
And at that she laughed and reached across my plate and got the butter. She had to spread it with a spoon because she thought all the knives were missing, but if she listened closely she could have heard the clinging noise they made under my bed.
I wrote this inspired by Leelah Alcorn. I'm a story writer at heart so I tried to write a poem about how I felt about this entire situation, but It came out more looking like a short story.