You told me you felt that our relationship was a pool.

That I have jumped into the deep end,
while you are still wading in the shallow end steps.
That you don't understand how I managed to get
myself into the deep end so quickly.

The thing about pools is this:

If you don't cannonball into the deep end,
you may never actually get in.
If you're standing at the shallow end,
the water could be too cold,
too hot,
too many leaves floating around,
too many bugs,
anything could convince you not to
fully submerge into the water.

If you cannonball in,
the hard part is over with.
You've dedicated all of yourself to the water;
mind, body, and soul.
There's no more second guessing.
There's no other excuse as to why you shouldn't swim.
There's no going back and that's ok,
because in all reality you wanted to swim.
You just needed to let go of the fear
that swimming will be too challenging.

Our relationship is like a pool.
I have dived in,
ready to fill this pool with love for you.
While you are still on the second step,
afraid of me.
Afraid that the love I give to you will be fleeting.
That I will leave you like everyone else has.
That my love for you is a joke,
that my love for you will never be enough.

I have a confession to make.
I have the same fears.
But I am still here,
in the deep end.
Waiting for you to look past your fears,
to accept them and dive head first anyway.
If you stand on the steps the whole time,
you will never swim.
You will never know the love I could give you.

Dive in baby.
I promise I'll catch you.

April showers bring may flowers.
This is not a reasonable excuse for the death April has brought.
It’s not an excuse for my sister to be in so much pain.
She has lost so many people in her life this April,
And you expect me to believe May will bring her flowers?
Will it bring her flowers to the graves of the ones she’s lost?
Will the flowers bring back the ones she’s buried?

Don’t tell me April showers bring May flowers when my sister can barely live through this hell.

Numb.
I cannot feel the sunburn on my back.
I cannot feel pain as I glide the blade against my skin.
I no longer feel the spark in my heart.

My head is constantly crowded with nonsense.
All I can see is a little red-headed boy.
He plays with blocks in a sepia-toned room.
I know he is not real.
I have never seen him before, but I know this imagery all too well.
He comes from a photograph from long ago.
He is my reality now.

He lays on the carpet tinted a light green.
He is stacking blocks with different letters on them.
I feel as if I should pay attention to their order.
Is he trying to tell me something?
The letters are blurry, as if I am reading without my glasses.
What could this boy be trying to tell me?
I lean in closer when his image ripples away as if this photograph was dipped into a chemical bath.
Reaching out my hand, I cannot touch him.
I remember he is just a hallucination.
Reality hits me aggressively.

I'm sitting on my bedroom floor, blade in my hand when my phone lights up.
Grabbing my phone, I let the blade fall.
I can feel my heart pound for the first time in months.
I am hoping to hear from a friend.
Instead, a game is inviting me to come back and play.
I know it now.

I am alone.

I am alone with my thoughts and with this boy who isn't real.
I crave human interaction.
I look at the blade on the floor.
I look at my skin tinted red.
I crave being in the same sepia photograph as that boy.
I wouldn't be alone.
I wouldn't be red.
But I only know one way to travel back to him.
I pick up the blade once more and press it hard into my skin.

Numb.
I cannot feel the sunburn on my back.
I cannot feel pain as I glide the blade against my skin.
I no longer feel the spark in my heart.

I cannot stand to be alone anymore.

Would I still see a girl who is tired of constantly being misgendered?
Would I see a girl trying too hard at looking good?
Would I see a girl not trying hard enough?
Would I see a poor excuse of a partner?
A girl who cannot possibly love someone else because she cannot find love in herself?
Would I see a girl whose self hatred seeps through her body with every aching breath?

Or

Would I see a person whose gender identity is respected and valid?
Would I see a person who always looks good without any effort?
Would I see the best partner I could be?
Would I make you happier than you've ever been?
Even if I cannot love myself, would I still be able to shower you with all the love in the world?
Would I see a person whose confidence can light up a room?

I crave the thought of switching places for a day.
Not just because I no longer wish to be myself, but because I need to know if I am good for you.