Welcome back to the world you'd thought you left behind.
The world where the righteous have finally met their demise.

We're glad to have you, you're almost there.
Simply past this test and gain admittance to the paradise we've told you so much about.

What's the one thing you desire most in life?
What's the one thing that keeps you up at night ( besides your own despair).

Seriously, what's your "thing"?

Truthfully, I don't know that I've found mine yet.
But I know I will and I know you will too.

The beautiful thing about the Land of Do as You Please is it's always changing, evolving, into something better.

If you haven't figured it out yet, I guess I'll tell you.
You've always been here. In fact, maybe you were born here.
Maybe you wondered in one day and subconsciously decided to never leave.

The only thing I know for sure is we're all citizens of the Land of Do as You Please.

In the morning is when I like it most.

When you've just woken up, and you forget where you are.

Yes, the morning  is when I like it most.

When it is dark and quiet, when no one is a wake.
The cloudy skies and the cold represent my mood for the day.

The morning is when I like it most.

After the sun rises, the people rise too.
The day begins anew, but my peaceful morning dies too.

Yes , The morning is when I like it most.

Change is in the air,
drive is in my mind.

Turmoil may be approaching,
risk is high, reward could be even greater.

Do I take the chance?
A chance to cheat death?
A chance to have a life again?
A chance to do what you didn't.

You tried, and I commend the effort.
But in the end, to dust you returned.

I've vowed to honor you,
and to in turn, never be like you.

So I run, as fast as a I can with open arms to the operation.
The cool cut of the knife under my skin to save me from the same fate you met.

I tell myself....
It's one thing to be fat....it's another thing to die.
It's one thing to be sad....it's another thing to be selfish.

Do I hold that against you? That you were the ticket to your own demise?

Do I hold you in contempt for being too dead to make it to my high school graduation?

Why am I so scared? What do I have to fear? That's right...death.
Death is a funny little creature. Sometimes it makes an appearance and is the star of the show. Other times it's shy, scared, and appears slowly over time until the consumption of it's subject has been completed.

You were the second, yet we all should've seen it coming.
But never mind, let's get back to the subject, while I can still be saved.

Can I be saved? Can I truly live again? A reincarnation, a former shell of myself come to life under the guise of a second chance.

A new beginning at nineteen. Less of a quarter life crisis and more of a life just begun.

Shedding trauma with pounds, revealing the flesh and emotions left behind.

Because no amount on the scale can compare to the weight of the world on your shoulders.

How much will the operation shed?

I look upon you with fear and disgust,
why do I want to be one of you so badly.

Truthfully, I'm better than you.
You're not half the man I am.

Cat calls and sneers as I walk by,
disgusting thoughts and that wonderful feeling of entitlement and ownership.

You think you own the world, because that's what we've allowed you to believe.

That flesh between your legs somehow makes you a God.

I despise you, I envy you.

I envy the way you get to walk alone at night.
I envy the your false confidence, your privilege.
I envy your camaraderie  while we've been taught to tear each other apart.

I envy you, I despise you, and truthfully, I never want to be like you.

And that's okay.

I may never be the kind of man you are, but I'll be a man none the less.

I'll be an ally, a safe haven, a calming reprieve in the storm.
I'll hunt down men like you, I'll send you all to the land of do as you please.

We'll deal with you there, in the land where your privilege is a thing of the past.

In a land, where you'll be the one leaning to keep your knees and mouth shut.

It's kind of confusing, this skin I'm in.
Wanna break myself out, get free of this sin.

I'm living a lie, can't I just be my self.
I can't even wear clothes, without wishing I was someone else.

Listen, I want short hair, I want to be thin, I wanna be the pretty girl, I just need to be begin again.

Go back in time and erase the past, erase the version of myself i hate, at last.

I'll be free, away from the scorn. Finally I'll be me and feel as if I were just born.

Will I ever be happy, with the way I'm perceived?
Will I ever be happy with this look I've achieved?

You say that I'm perfect just the way I am, but make sure to sit up tall, keep your hair down, and wear a dress.

So you say I'm perfect, but only to your desire,
You say I'm perfect, but you sound just like a liar.

Am I lying to myself with this fantasy of mine,
maybe one day  I'll wake up, and finally be me this time.

She not only shattered the glass ceiling, she killed her captors with the glass.

The little shards left from the explosion expertly found their way into the hearts of every founding member of the patriarchy.

To every founding member that ever dared to doubt her.

The glass shuddered against her bare feet, cowering at her power. Her invincibility finally replacing her invisibility.

There she was in all her glory, present at all the board meeting, head CEO in a field where women where secretaries and mothers. There she was, finally on her own. If we didn't count the few dead bodies in the room.

"Brutal"...she thought. That life had forced a seemingly sweet woman to shed her "natural" loving instructs in lieu of such violence.

Little did they understand, she'd never known love in the first place.

"He's young now." I look into the mirror. "He'll grow on you."

"He's learning. Unwise in his few years, low in confidence."

I ponder..." Will he always be so...scrappy?"

Here stands a young man, looking in the mirror. Still baffled at the reflection he sees.

There goes a woman, his mother, still determined to have a youngest daughter.

People say "He's changing, look in the mirror...see for yourself."

What I see is a scared young man....

scared to live, scared to take up space, scared to make a sound in the noise of society's never ending chaos.

She's trying...she says. To understand. To support. To move on. She knows not her faults nor the effect her words have on you...she only knows that one day her daughter stopped wearing dresses, cut her hair, and left a life of pink and pageantry behind.

No, she doesn't know what she does, but she can see the light in your eyes began to dim when she calls you her little girl.

His father....slowly decaying, pushes the ideas of a son out of his mind. Refuses to see the beard and changing physique in front of him, clings desperately like a moth to a flame to his little girl who he swears never grew a day past the age of five.

Back when things were simple. Back when there wasn't so much **** change. Back when things mattered less about pronouns and more about peace of mind and reputation.

When I grow up, I want to be the change that I wish I saw in all of you. I want to embrace who I love with open arms, decide that I'd **** for the man I see in the mirror. Let all those who disapprove be ******.

Because if I couldn't protect the light in that little girls eyes so many years ago, I'll be **** sure that the man I become is one who will protect mine.

She opened her journal and for the first time in a long time,
she wrote happy words.

She told stories of freedom from the chains and weights bearing down on her for so long.

She spun tales of a new life she'd never thought she'd be worthy enough to have.

Long ago, she'd stopped dreaming. Stopped her side glances in the mirror because looking at a person she didn't recognize just proved too much to bear.

Long ago she'd given up hope of every being worthy of anyone else, she'd given up hope of a relationship that didn't end in resentment,

but that was before she met her.

Her eyes were greener than the depths of the sea that churned against the shores of their favorite place.

Her laugh, thunderous, beautiful, a force of nature strong enough to move mountains.

Her lips, soft, inviting, loving with zero expectation except to be loved in return.

She was a welcome reprieve for the chaos in my brain, an oasis of love in a drought of madness.

She taught me that love didn't always come with a price tag or a hand around my neck.

She made feel safer than I'd ever felt in my entire existence.

Long ago, I thought love was phantom of my imagination.

I thought love was for the weak and disillusioned.

Long ago, I was lonely.

Until I met her.

The breeze blows.
The sun shines.

and for the first time in weeks, I feel completely alive.
Like I'm more than just a cog in a machine, more than my future.

A living being.
Right now, the sun shines, the breeze blows, the waves crash, my blood pumps, my skin tingles, my brain moves a thousand miles per minute.

Most importantly,
right now I'm living.

Pick your head up darling, your crown's falling.
She'd say as she sucker punched me in the gut again.

God, your eyes shine brighter than the brightest stars in the whole ******* galaxy.
She say'd as she slapped me across the face for the eighth time that night.

Baby there's no one like you...

But baby I love you...

But baby everything is gonna okay..

I'm not your ******* baby.

I'm a girl that should be able to stand on her own.

I'm a kid with ****** up issues thinking the only form of love was a hand around my throat.

I'm not your baby anymore but baby....please love me.

Just one more time.