John Green and Jay Asher
they are at war
between each other
in an epic battle of epic proportions
to see who can glorify and romanticize
the most terrible and potentially life-ending things

ACT 1:
Jay Asher started first
with 13 Reasons Why in 2007
because why can’t suicide and depression
and blaming that on other people
be romantic, huh?!

Well from first hand experience
there is nothing romantic about being so depressed
that you want to die

I was 12 years old
two years after Jay Asher’s book came out
and I was in my room
not knowing about the book
cutting myself for the first time
and jesus christ I bled like a stuck pig

Fast forward to seventh grade
three years after the book was out on shelves
and I had my own copy
that I read through in one day
and came away from it with a vaguely
sick feeling in my stomach

Because I saw myself
in that girl
who wanted to die so badly
that she actually went through with it
but what I couldn’t understand was why
she felt the need to set up this sick game
where she gave 13 whole reasons why
to her fellow students
some of which she had never talked to
they were each why she had killed herself
like what the hell

And even more so
I couldn’t understand why
Jay Asher thought he had the right
to write this book
to make suicide and depression
into this tragic and romantic
and horribly glorified thing
because being suicidal is just so much fun

But what wasn’t fun was
jumping ahead a few more years
to when I was 16
and doing online school because of the massive
mental breakdown I’d had over Christmas break
in my freshman year of high school
and I tried to **** myself

And there was nothing romantic
about waking up in the middle of the night
and then in the morning
and having to tell my mother
that I had taken forty of my sleeping pills
there was nothing romantic about that at all

ACT 2:
then in 2012
just five years after Jay Asher’s book
it was John Green’s turn to fire back
and since depression and suicide and blaming that
on other people was already taken
why John just shrugged his shoulders and
made it his mission to
romanticize and glorify the big C of diseases
CANCER

Because what isn’t romantic
about these two dying kids
and so many others and chemo
that makes you puke and strips your body
of its immune system so that a cold
might **** you
and what isn’t there to glorify about radiation to ****
the thing that is attacking your body
from the inside out and even if the radiation
does **** your white blood cells
and leaves you wide open for all other kinds of infection
at least the cancer is temporarily under control right

Because even if you lose your hair
and your brain has a potential of being damaged
as well as your thyroid
blood system
heart
gastrointestinal tract
reproductive tract
and bone marrow
just think
an author may choose to make a romance story
around this disease that is slowly killing you
and doesn’t that make you feel better

And even though
if Augustus Waters was real
almost every girl and guy within a five
mile radius would probably sneer
at the cigarette that was never lit
because it’s all about the metaphor sweetheart
he was just the perfect guy in the book and then
in the movie where the audience was
actually able to kind of not really see the
prosthetic leg that that character had
because hey why just go after cancer
when you can go after amputees as well
go big or go home ya know

And even though
the book wasn’t so much about cancer
as it was about this girl
that even though she literally has to
wear a cannula all the time
and drag around an oxygen tank so that she
can even breathe
at least she can still somehow have *** right
and there’s no bruises in the morning
because that wouldn’t be realistic to
someone suffering from cancer right

This is where you nod along
and try not to think of the
people you know that have had cancer
two of which have died
and just get through the book
because who are you to let the
cute little pastel blue packet of tissues
that come with the book
go to waste huh

ACT 3:
Well god
big kahuna in the sky that you are
you see mam sir holy mother and father
I have never harmed a book before
except in that I dog-ear the pages
I wanted to burn these two books so bad
that it almost physically hurt
like going to the funeral of a good friend
and I saw red I was so angry
and it hurt so much

Well god you see
I have a proposition for you
okay and it’s a good one

Well god you see
I’ll go out and buy these two books
The Fault In Our Stars
and 13 Reasons Why
and I’ll build a great big funeral pyre
and burn them into the ground
okay and then you take those ashes
they’re all for you
take them
and give me back my friends

the funny thing is
when my mom was together with my dad
--like as a thing and he would
run to the pay phone across the street from where
he lived whenever his pager went off that
she was calling him--
his dad asked her is she was going to
give him a grandson
and my mom
being the person that she is
told me that she laughed and said maybe

the funny thing is
when i was born and the midwife
announced that i was a girl
my nan who had mistook my umbilical cord
for a ***** leaned over and asked
the midwife if they were sure

the funny thing is
my grandfather’s mother
she always thought that i was a boy
and yes i know that she had alzheimers
and was not all there
but now i feel like she was able to
see through my dresses and long hair
to the boy that i would one day be

the funny thing is
i was often mistaken for a boy as a child
and when that happened there was always
a little burst of warmth because yes
i was a boy
i looked like a boy
i felt like a boy
but no no no
silly girl they all would say

the funny thing is
when i first met my father’s father
my grandfather if you will
i was a lesbian
and in texas that isn’t a widely accepted thing
and i was told a lot during my two week visit
that i just hadn’t found the right man yet
and so now that i am a man
i wonder what they would tell me now

the funny thing is
i don’t have bottom dysphoria
have a ****** does not bother me
i like being able to comfortably ride a bike
and read ****** novels in public
without it being obvious that that is
what i am doing

the funny thing is
my grandfather’s mother
who we all called papa lucy
died before i realized that i wasn’t a girl
i had that terrifying revelation at seven
and though my memory is foggy
through much of my childhood
she passed a year or two prior to that
and no i do not mean it is funny that
she died because that is terrible and i loved
her with all my heart
but it is funny that she saw who it would take
me nine years to be
and i didn’t get to reintroduce myself to her
and tell her she was right

the funny thing is
now that i am a boy
i am near-constantly misgendered
and it seems that no amount of slouching
or wearing a binder under it feels like my
ribs are cracking with every breath
and wearing pronoun buttons on my sweatshirt
and bright rainbow beanie
is enough to make people see otherwise

but ****** i am a boy
and my nan thought i was a boy
and my papa lucy knew i was a boy
and i used to get mistaken for a boy
before i grew hips and ****
and despite all those things i am still
a boy and i always have been and i always
will be and the really not funny thing about that is that
people seem so eager to tell me i am wrong
and try to force me back into the box of
daughter and woman and mother and sister
and no i will not be those things
and it is not my fault that i live in this world
where they do not know what
a body other than theirs means and how terrifying it is
to realize you are not the girl you were raised as at such a
young age you do not have words to describe how you feel
and they do not know
and they will not know
until they shut their mouths and open their minds

so please do
before any more of my transgender brothers and sisters
have to die for your ignorance and hate and fear
because there is nothing funny about that

so you call yourself pro-life
okay, I guess I can pretend to respect that
which then means that you must also
respect the fact that I am very loudly pro-choice
and thanks to science
I know that a bundle of cells
and a living child are not the same thing

because an actual fetus is not fully formed
until the third trimester
and by fully formed I mean that it is
for all intents and purpose alive
but before that
there is nothing but a group of cells
there is no brain
no heart
not even pearly pink fingernails

so now what, huh?
you’re probably going to keep protesting
Planned Parenthood and harassing the people
that work there, right?
because all that Planned Parenthood does
is condone the vicious and inhumane ******
of defenseless, unborn children, right?
right?

either way, you don’t care about the child
once they’re born
all that you care about is making a woman
and other individuals who have a ******
carry this thing that is literally feeding off of them
and why should a child be brought into this world
if the circumstances through which it was
conceived are non-consensual?

because, if you really did care
if you really were “pro-life”
then you would care about the child
after it is born
or better yet
you could turn your attention and time and money
and anger to all the millions of orphans living
in the US

ya know, the living children?
with no homes?
with no parents?
packed like sardines in orphanages?
what about them?
do they not matter because they are not a group
of cells, and therefore not defenseless?
and therefore they do not matter?

because,
if you only care about that bundle of cells
and because some states actually make women
and those with uteruses
have funerals for the aborted “child”
then by default whenever a man
masturbates and then *******
shouldn’t he be made to have a separate
funeral for each of the thousands of children
that he just killed?
because one of them could have cured cancer, ******

and tell me
when I was still menstruating
should I have said “amen”
over all the potential children that bled out
of my body and into the pad
and the sides of my boxers?

should I have
said “grace” over all the
little pad mummies that I threw away?
should I have cried when I flushed
the ****** toilet paper?

because,
since I have a ******
how dare I want and feel as if I should
be owed control over my own body, right?

how dare I believe that
each and every woman
biological and otherwise
have a say in what they do with their body
how dare I be pro-choice, right?

well, let me knock you down
a few pegs with this closing statement:
if you only care about the “child” when it is
just a group of cells that doesn’t feel a **** thing
and couldn’t care less about it
once it is born
and homeless
or an orphan
or queer
then you are not “pro-life”
what you are
is an *******

putting into words
why swimming in the summer
is a thing that does not exist
be it pool, lake, or river
is almost as difficult and painful
as seeing bare flesh in the mirror
with all the wrong parts
in all the wrong places
and the only thing that goes through
an already moving-too-fast brain
is *wrong wrong wrong

i have said goodbye
more times than i can count
to grandparents
aunts and uncles
a good friend that i thought i would never be older than

but saying goodbye to myself
my old self
my girl self
is something that i still grieve from time to time

and it is such a disconnect that comes with this
because there was no body
nothing to mourn

no coffin
though i prefer to be cremated
i would like to grow into a tree
or be crushed down into a record
that only plays one song
over and over again

but nobody sent flowers
or so many casseroles that i had to
ask them to stop because i was
seeing tuna in my dreams
and the dying flowers were making me even sadder
*******

but no
because there was no body
though there almost was
nothing happened
just my falling asleep
and waking up

as if the past nine years had never happened
from seven to sixteen
knowing that something was different in me
and how it almost very nearly killed me
hell i still have the scars
and my insides are probably at least
a bit ****** from those **** pills

but i still do not know
how to say goodbye to who i was
who i was labeled because
i was a baby born with a ******
and of course that automatically equals female
doesn’t it?

but there is still such a disconnect
between the old name and who i am now

because even though i can get rid of
my *******
my ******
and Testosterone will put hair on my face
and give me a happy trail
and my voice will deepen
and i will go through a second puberty
where i want to **** everything

there are people that still see me
as a girl
a she
a lesbian
butch
tomboy
****

but all they really see are my *******
and what they assume is in my pants
and that is not who i am
that is not who i ever was
and ****** why can’t they just see
that this saying farewell
to my old self
does not mean i stop being
who i am

because i am so much more
than my *******
and my ******
and my ability to nurture a human life
inside my own body

i am so much more than my body
and my old selves do not determine who i am
today because today i am alive
and i am so much more than my body

i am so much more
than how you see me
i am so much more

when you first look at me
and i mean more than a furtive passing glance
what do you see?
and i only ask because i have read
that employers have this thing where
they will analyze a hopeful-hire
in 30 seconds
and then they go off of that
mere 30, 29, 28
and so on
all the way down to 0
of whether or not they will get the job

now i am not asking you for a job
because i do not want to work for you
and you are not offering me a position
as caretaker, worker, cleaner, lover
and even if you were
it would not be accurate
because i am so much more than
30 seconds

because in such a short amount of time
that only allows a quick once-over
all that you will come away with
is a mix of stereotypes and an impression
based off of what gender you think i am

30, 29, 28
purple haired freak, clown, butch
27, 26, 25
girl, must be a lesbian, what a ****
24, 23, 22
must have been a cutter at some point
maybe still is, but who can really say?
because the world we live in is getting colder
and hotter and colder and layers upon layers
is the only way to go
21, 20, 19
is she a girl or a boy? who does she think she is?
what should i call her?
18, 17, 16
she she she
15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
0, 0, 0,
girl girl girl

(now let me tell you what
i gleaned from the 30 seconds that
you looked me up and down
like i was nothing more than a slab
of meat and you wanted to
dig a knife into my and cut me into little chunks

what i saw in your eyes
it was not nice
and i saw the moment when you
labeled me as a female
because of my *******
soft and supple and right ******* there
and the societally stereotyped feminine pear shape of my hips
all the way down to where there is no bulge
because how can she be a ******
when she hasn’t got any bottom dysphoria, huh?

and sure that’s a great question
it’s so clever and original
why can’t you just be a tomboy?
why can’t you just be a lesbian?
why not try being bisexual?
but really the question
the million dollar question
is why can’t you just be a girl?

well because i’m not a girl
and i have known this
since i was 7 years old
and that was ******* terrifying
because i knew for a fact that
i was something else than the doctor
had labeled me as after glancing at
my new born baby self
and thinking: yup, ******=female

and i tried being a tomboy
wearing ripped jeans and converse
and keeping my hair short
wearing baggy sweatshirts to hide
my *******
but it wasn’t enough

and i tried being a lesbian
actually since i did not know what
transgender meant
let alone that there was a word to describe
what i had felt like inside for
9 long **** years
i rationalized that i must have been a lesbian
because that was a quick-fix-easy-answer
to the cuts on my wrist and the misery
i felt whenever someone called me a girl

and i tried being bisexual
which came after a lesbian
and before transgender
and yeah sure i guess it worked
but not for long
and then it happened and i knew what
transgender meant and that
i wasn’t a tomboy
a lesbian
or even bisexual

and i tried being a girl
but it very nearly killed me
and then it happened
and i knew who and what i was

i am a transgender male
my sexuality is pansexual
and no i do not have *** with pans
though that’s really original and not something
i’ve heard so many times already

but i know that i am not a woman
and your 30 second analysis of me
does not help you at all
because you see me through a lens
of female, butch, lesbian, she, she, she
and that is not who i am at all)

dear doctor crombie
rhymes with cranberry remember
that’s what you told me so that i
would remember your name
and you chuckled like that was
the most clever thing in the world
but all i cared about was getting the hell
out of the **** psychiatric ward because being
in that place made me want to try
and **** myself all over again
which is totally the opposite of
what i was hoping for when i agreed to be
admitted but i digress

because what stuck
with me more than the dismal room
i was put in that was either
as hot as hell-fire or freezing cold
to the point where i decided that i’d rather
be able to see my breath than be soaked in sweat
and your ******-*** joke
was the fact that on our first meeting
you told me that you thought my
coming out as transgender was
nothing more
than a diversion tactic

now dr. crombie
i want you to put yourself in my place
i was 16 years old
stimming and shaking as you stared me down
and then labeled me as nothing more than
a diversion tactic
and that crushed me
it had only been a few days since
i swallowed 40 trazodone and accepted
the fact that i would not be waking up again
and that was all you had to say to me
a diversion tactic
you pulled down the very core
of what i was in two words
and my god i hated you so much
in that moment

because dr. crombie
i had known i was not a girl
since i was 7 years old
and i held that inside me for 9 long years
that almost killed me
because *******
i knew that i wasn’t a girl for longer
than i had lived as a girl
and you just didn’t care
you took what i had given to you
laying myself out before you
because i was a scared
mentally ill teenager
that had just survived a
******* suicide attempt
and all you had to say
that my being transgender
was a diversion tactic

and even now
three years later
that still haunts me
the fact that you
a heterosexual cisgender male
born with a ***** and a flat chest
decided to chalk up my
9 years of hell to nothing more than
a diversion tactic

so dr. crombie
tell me what do you think
i was diverting from exactly
when i had willingly been admitted
to a sterile-smelling hellscape
where i was forced to relive
how i tried to forcibly end my life
every day in the ******* little therapy groups
that made me feel so much older and hollowed out

tell me doctor
what exactly was i diverting from
what was i trying to hide from and behind
by putting myself through the hell
of being near constantly dead-named
and misgendered and having to pay
up into the double digits just to change
my legal my deadname
and gender marker from an F to an M
and being told that i was technically still a girl
and being asked why i couldn’t just be a tomboy
a lesbian
a ****
a butch
why couldn’t i just be a girl huh
why did i have to be a boy

so tell me
dr. crombie
rhymes with cranberry
just what exactly was i
******* diverting from