i don't feel sad anymore
its like the emotion has run dry
depression has taken away
all feeling inside me

an ignored text
one word answer
uninterested responses

these things no longer
pull me into a deep pit of dispair
it just falls into the numbness
of my mind and body

you're a crushing weight on my chest
you push and tear
burrowing deep inside
and you sit dormant
until a tiny reminder of you
pulls the trigger in my mind
you begin again
tearing and reminding
of how I was never yours

dysphoria
is sitting in front of a mirror
for 30 straight minutes
picking out the tiny things
that make people misgender you.

trying to pull back your chest
pretending you have a flat one
scratching down your biceps
because maybe if they were more toned
you would be called a boy
clawing at your thighs
because if they were small and beautiful
then people might think you are a he

dysphoria
is sobbing while doing all of that
the mirror is now your enemy
giving you a million things to change
but you have no way of changing it.

maybe sleeping will help?
that is if you get past your thoughts
of your disgusting body
calm down for a bit to even let you slip into somber.

but then dreams come
you dream of being on testosterone
having a beard with a deep voice
maybe even your top surgery
where you no longer have to deal with having a chest

but you wake up
no way of getting these things
it haunts you for days.

dysphoria
is the mirror no longer being
a place to just fix up your hair or do your make up
it’s where your demons live
passing by a reflective surface
and seeing even a glance of your body
makes you want to die and tear it apart

dysphoria
is someone brushing against your thigh
and you wanting to puke everything
you have ever eaten
because they touched your body
a disgusting girls body
it can’t be mine
but I hate it none the less

dysphoria
is someone taking out your soul and choking it
the lack of breath comes from a panic attack
your nails clawing and digging into your skin
because this can’t be you. this isn’t mine
this body needs fixing
so does this soul.

eyes forced open
hand stretched out
trying to grasp at something
that always stays a step out of reach

it hovers above me
filling me with false hope
my eyes begin to flutter
it turns its wings
then drags me back to darkness
silence becomes too loud

i can't escape
yet it has to be done

for something to simple
why must it hurt so much?

a breaking point*
everyone has one, right?
a place where they can't go on
without an explosion of emotion
or just quitting all together

but where is mine?

where is my stopping point?
where i can rest my eyes
and feel ease
a point where i do break
and get everything out
because to get better you have to break, right?

maybe that point has left out
forgotten by a god i dont believe in
leaving me in a constant hurt
a never ending cycle of being left
with no escape or coping

where is my breaking point?
it must be sad
to read about someone who wants to break down
who wants to feel all the pain he has experienced at once
just so one thing can maybe last
just so some other emotion
that isnt a deep depression
can be felt for more than an hour or so

maybe i need to make my own point
need to scrape some time out of my schedule
to let myself explode
let it out
get rid of the space it takes up
so i can leave some for anything else

but thats not how it works
it comes on its own time
like a bird to its feeder
or death to take a soul

maybe
my breaking point will take its time
so slow its taking parts of me
as i try to survive

maybe
my breaking point will be death
that when my blood pools out of my body
those deep dark emotions
will flow out with it

no longer carried by me
but the mortal body
that is left here
leaving my soul the lightest of them all

a breaking point
no one said
that it has to happen when youre alive

you tapped my shoulder
and whispered in my ear

"thats wrong. fix it"

my gaze followed
your long, boney finger
down to the skewed papers
on the desk next to mine

i simply shook my head and answered with
"no, thats not mine to touch"

i started to ignore
your fervent tapping and whispering
but it moved up
to screaming and shaking my body
i couldnt hold myself back any longer

i quickly grabbed the papers
and filed them
making sure they were neat
before setting them back down

you were happy
it was casual
it was normal

so i started to
live by your rules
letting your gentle taps and whispers
tell me what to do

i would fold my gym clothes
in the same order every day
i would sanitize my hands
before and after every single class
i would fix peoples binders, paper, and pencils
just to please you

then it changed

others started to laugh
mess up the clothes i neatly folded
push my papers out of order
hold me back
as they made everything crooked
watching me struggle against their hands
as i tried to break free
to fix it all

you were screaming
telling me how those fingertips
were touching my body
infecting me

you were violently shaking me
saying how wrong the mess was
that i had to fix it

fix it
fix  it
fix it

i still do as you say
abide by your rules
the laughing and taunting
has disappeared now
as i freely fix my things

theres the occasional question and statement
"why dont you just leave it?"
"it isnt that important"
"the mess wont affect you"

none of them know
of you looming behind me
a strict ruler of my mind
telling me they were wrong

no
none of them will know
they wouldnt never understand
how important your pure touches and words are
to the filthy, messy place
that is my mind

im drifting in and out
floating around
this body does not belong to me

the clench of my hands
physical touch
its all so distant
this body does not contain me

my vision blurs
voices fade
this body is not helping me

the clothes i put on
hats i wear
the glasses that rest on my nose
this body does not represent me

staring in mirrors
clawing at skin
this body will be the death of me