Sometimes I see her at the side of my bed;
Reading me a story;
Kissing me goodnight,
The lights go out
Sometimes her face is so clear
Like I saw her yesterday;
She is right there in front of me
I reach out to give her a hug
She ripples and fades
Like she
was never
there at all
Sometimes I hear her heart,
Beating like she's still here
When it stops, the pain starts all over
When she's gone, time stops;
When she returns, we bleed;
When she returns, we breathe;
When she returns
We are free

do you know,
what it's like,
to hate yourself,
but not just your face,
your entire body.
you look at your skin and it's much too pale,
you look at your chest and it makes your eyes bleed,
you'd gladly rip those out, pain and all,
I've considered it before,
to **** myself up so that they can be gone.

when your face doesn't match,
the way you wish,
then your voice interrupts your speech,
and you hate it so much,
you hate it so much.

you hate it so much.

you hate it so much.
you'd gladly go mute,
to make sure no one knows what you sound like.
if I'm lucky I might get them all gone
but I don't know how one can stay sane with all these flaws.

My chest hurts,
it hurts so much.
my body hurts,
it hurts so much.
My chest hurts,
it hurts so much.
my body hurts,
it hurts so much.
because of these,
alien things on top of me,
get rid of them for me,
won't you please?

dysphoria
days nights and years
dysphoria
days nights and years
days nights and years

do you know what it’s like
to feel like you live
in the cage?

do you know what it’s like
to hate what you see
in the mirror?

do you know what it’s like
to flinch when you hear
your voice?

do you know what it’s like
to break down in the bathroom
and cry into sleep?

do you know what it’s like
when you are
in the wrong body?

So, you ask,
How would I explain it?
Well certainly, as something
Not fun.
It's like...
It's like carrying a leach around with you.
When I walk, I can feel it,
It is a dead weight on my chest,
******* the life from my arms,
Making my hands and face slender,
What should be full and strong
It's like...
It's like when you're sick to your stomach.
That feeling of tar in your gut,
But instead of being isolated, it's everywhere
Throughout your body,
It makes you feel sick everywhere.

This is how I explain dysphoria:
Have you ever looked in the mirror,
And wanted to just rip all your hair out?
When a bad hair day gets out of hand,
Have you ever felt the need to just start over?
Even when you tear out a clump of hair
And your scalp looks raw and a little ******,
But you keep going anyway,
Just to get rid of that stupid haircut?
...no?
Alright, how about,
When you're watching the outtakes of a 3-D animated movie,
the scenes that have "gone wrong",
When the girl's eyes are far too big and pop out of her face,
Her arms are disconnected from her chest,
Her head moves but her teeth do not,
And you just want to scream "DELETE IT!"
Because it's obvious that someone has ******* up here,
And this nightmare, this fever dream
Is not what they intended their creation to look like.

Alright, well have you ever
Done a pencil drawing?
And you've put a lot of time and effort into it,
You're so proud,
This is one of your best works,
But something about it is just off?
You might not be able to tell what it is,
This will bother you for a long time,
You will spend hours on end thinking
About what exactly separates this piece of art from everything else,
What it is that keeps it from perfection...
Until suddenly one day, you realise,
You notice exactly what's wrong,
You grab an eraser to fix your mistake
But then, oh no
Your eraser was *****,
And when you tried to rub out that single wonky line,
You leave a huge black smudge across your paper
And now there's no way to get rid of it
All your work on this piece, ruined,
And you're really upset,
You were so proud of this drawing,
It was so close to being perfect,
It could have been so beautiful,
It was almost perfect, but now...

But now, it's wrong.
It just looks wrong
It just IS wrong,
It wasn't meant to look like this
I am trying to explain as simply as I can
That this body is wrong,
That it wasn't meant to look like this,
That it wasn't meant to BE like this!
Don't you understand?
This is how I explain dysphoria:
Have you ever looked in the mirror
And wanted to just rip your chest out?
Do you ever see your body, your parts seeming broken,
Your chest, legs, hear the sound of your voice
And just scream "DELETE IT!"
Because it's obvious that someone
Has ******* up
Someone was using a ***** eraser
When they created me, erased me,
And they've left smudges, mistakes, that I
Cannot get rid of,
And however hard I try to pretend
That I don't care,
I do,
And I still feel the need to erase them.
These leaches that I carry around,
They drain me,
And I was so proud of myself
I,
This body...

It could have been so beautiful