Constantly fighting.
Sometimes it’s easier just to give in.
To stay silent, save your voice, don’t
Shout into the coming gales.

Running against the wind,
We all get pushed back sometimes,
Doubting whether it would do any good.
We keep quiet, terrified of speaking up.

But child.
Telling truths is the light switch,
The calm after a storm.

Follow your heart. Breathe in, breathe out.
Make your own wind.

Shout it from mountaintops,
Scream it in storms.
Whisper it in the cool dark of the night.

It’s okay. I am too.

"You'll be fine,
It'll be okay,
It will get better,
birthname"

They say

If only they knew that sometimes a name is a shackle, holding us to what we've never been and keeping us there until we can admit to ourselves that we've never been fine, nothing's okay and it first gets worse

"Why are you so mad,
Nothing seems to be wrong,
Why aren't you happy,
girl"

They say

If only they knew that sometimes feelings are subtle masks, painted onto our faces with the blood we drew yesterday to hide what we need to say to escape the viscous cycle of hate and tears and figurative death, and emotions are betrayals of what we need to be

"Everything would be fine,
They'd all be cool with it,
Why can't you just come out"

They say
(skipping
my name as the smallest act of a
hand in the darkness)

If only they knew that coming out is something that never goes fine, a delicate balance of worse and worst that makes our hearts beat so fast that cool is no longer a phrase but a temperature we need to reach in order to play our everlasting game of pretend

and

a name is a shackle, holding us to what we've never been and keeping us there until we can admit to ourselves that we've never been fine, nothing's okay and it first gets worse and even when it's not said we can hear it in the air, lingering on their lips like the slurs that we always expect to hear but haven't yet because to slur they need a target, an out, and coming out is something that never goes fine, a delicate balance of worse and worst that makes our hearts beat so fast that cool is no longer a phrase but a temperature we need to reach while the world spins faster and hotter and turning on the fan at night just keeps us up, dreading the dawn where we must once again play our game of pretend like everyone's born how they'll be for the rest of their lives and no one is different from the norm while still being okay

and

we go to Society everyday with a smile on our faces to say

"You'll be fine,
It'll be okay,
It will get better,
birthname;
Why are you so mad,
Nothing seems to be wrong,
Why aren't you happy,
birthsex"

because emotions are like coming out delicate scales of worst and worser and when we can't feel them we get enough cool relief to realize That This
Dysphoria
Is
Crushing
And
We
Can't
Get
Okay

Sometimes
Your heart beats
Fastest
When becoming
Who you
need to be.

The stars in the sky
At midnight seem to be
forever
(Unlike
Us)