I.
The world dropped away and may have dropped out of existence,
but when the plane landed it was reality as hard and cold as it comes.

II.
Reality, as soft and warm as possible,
blue bottled sakè, gentle hands, the music as loud as a foghorn, the night air -
through the windows, cold as hell but brilliant.
City lights are brighter when you're laughing.

I.
An unending desire to relinquish power
must be handled with care.

I.
My hands are shaky with a scalpel.
Someday I may cut out my own ovaries at the cost of blood.

II.
You aren't meant to worry about me.
I'm one of the boys you look will at later, and say "What a tragedy."

III.
Don't worry now, I'm not a **** statistic yet.
Don't protect me, I'm not a court case yet.

IV.
I'm still fighting ain't I, right?
I'm not here for helping.

I.
You're more than you think you are.

II.
You're discarding me and it's alright.

III.
I must deserve it if you think it's right.

IV.
I will dig my nails into my own skin the way you did.

January

You make puns.
I make puns back.
We laugh.

February

I learn your name.
You walk me to class.

March

We keep making puns.
I tell you I don't go by the name I was introduced as.
You nod.

April

You punch me in the arm, harder than intended.
It's a funny thing to feel safe about.

May

You get my number.
We send each other jokes sometimes.
We talk about queer issues on occasion.

June

We beat each other up, laughing.
My ribs are bruised for a week and a half.
Our self-destructive tendencies seem to fall asleep for longer.

July

I am away.
I text you every day, and I don't remember when it started.
We agree that we are vaguely incompatible.

August

We begin school, and I see you every day.
I'm happier.
You look happier, too.

September

I ask your pronouns.
You touch me without hurting me for the first time.

October

Sometimes we fall asleep holding each other.
I'll never be in love with you.

November

Commitment has never felt like freedom before.

December*

You taste like some kind of holy water, a first sip of communion;
And I will still never be in love.

I.
You bleed in places boys are never meant to bleed;
You want to make yourself bleed in more places because of it.

II.
There will be places on your body that are no longer for touching.
They mean nothing to you, but the nerve-endings interaction with another hand will let you know they’re real.
They cannot be real.

III.
You will hear love songs, and you will want to rip your own lungs out in your fist.
They give you enough trouble anyways.

IV.
You never do rip your lungs out.
You cannot fit your fingers down your throat, and your ribs are too strong for your too small hands to break.
You cough when it’s cold out and laughing has hurt for months.

V.
You tell people that you reach out to them when you need to.
You reach out to them on good days.
You do not tell them that the days on which you cannot even form the words to ask for their help are they days you need it, and you do not expect them to know this.

VI.
You talk about escaping like it’s going to fix things.
You think about escaping as though it means ripping open your skin and walking away from it.

VII.
You think about what is wrong with you and you conclude you are unlovable.
The statement is not untrue.
You will hold up your own broken bones as proof.

VIII.
You sit in the bath for three hours and you look at yourself and you look at the ceiling.
You do not punch the walls anymore; it was loud and someone asked about the slamming.

IX.
You put your own hands around your neck for hours but you never tighten them.
You do not want to be disappointed in their lack of strength.

X.
There will be fingernail marks across your chest for a few days.
You will not see them, no one will see them.
No one wants to see that, and you cannot bear to look.