I don’t know what it is
I don’t know how to feel
If that hope is worth keeping
Or maybe just let it all fly out
Something I never thought about
Dropped down without a sound
A concept I don’t even want consider

Pushed down
Forced up
I still just feel empty
An emptiness I don’t want to fill

I dream of never being perceived
having the world never see me again
I’ll take up no space
just pass through bookshelves
and give the occasional shiver
just to prove that I still can

I want to be haunting
just in the back of the library
a legend people tell
but can never quite prove
pure speculation

I want to be a ghost
so no one can really look at me
living only in thoughts and conversations
but never on my own

life is safe in your arms
shield me from myself
the thoughts can’t get through your love
your skin against mine
connection deeper than this

I’m fully physical
just a body next to yours
soaking in the warmth of love
a bed with you in it
is better than anything I’ve ever wanted

I feel the weight of it on my hand
the possibilities
bliss?
darkness?
pain?
a second chance?

no one knows
except those who succeed
I don’t want others to be in pain
but I can’t handle my own
it’s selfish to go
but even harder to see
life past today

we live in life
stories of sunshine
true days hidden
in corners of diaries
lock and key
covers and tape
most days untold
eaten up by
minds so sad

perfect life I dreamt of:
a shot of hormones
a boy who loves me
a place to call my own
and freedom to live

I have it all
yet why is it not enough?

four years it’s all I thought of
the fix to all my problems
all but one
became the start of all of them

im trapped by a bed
and i dont know if i want to get out

sleeping isnt a safe place
i never sleep soundly
yet im always thinking about
when i can be in bed
eyes closed and unconscious

i dont enjoy sleeping
i enjoy not thinking
i enjoy the time where i dont think
that its just random dreams
good or bad
because they arent real
like the thoughts in my head

i want to fix it
feel alive and not plan my day around naps
that i can be awake for more than 10 hours
without needing to collapse on a bed

but if i get fixed
i dont have an excuse
i wont be able to say im just tired
because its so much more

im trapped by my mind
and i just want to get out

sometimes I think I don’t know what love is
that I can’t say the words
since I haven’t lived long enough
to really experience it

but then I remember how I felt
with his head in my lap
my hands idly playing with his hair
as he fell asleep

how he let me fidget with his fingers
when I have nothing to occupy my mind
and that he found it cute and not annoying

I know how love feels

I know what it is because of his blue eyes
how they look at me in the morning
after holding me all night long

it’s in the way he softly kisses me
before I walk away
even though I’ll see him in a few hours

it’s how I am amazed at
every little thing he does
that even a small smile I see daily
always makes my heart flutter

sometimes I think I don’t know what love is
but then I remember him
and how he showed me
what true love is

your heartbeat in my ear
fingers tracing my freckles
I feel safe in your arms
and at home against your chest

im sorry i wasnt enough
i only wanted to be yours
we couldve had it all
or at least thats what i thought

youre happier now
with someone i never thought youd love

im gone now
out of your life and everyone elses

i wish i could take it's power
make it mean nothing to me
have it mean someone else
but it was me
its a reminder i am not
who i want to be

i can be happy
but to accept that i can be
who i really am
without the cloud of sadness
looming over me
is too hard

maybe im chasing a feeling
that i havent even felt before
one that will take me out
of this numbness
something to strike an emotion

ive been stuck in nothing
and id do anything to get out

i feel like i cant breathe
most of the time

maybe its the tight binder
on my ribs
maybe its the suffocating thoughts
that tell me im not good enough
maybe its all the stares
that i know are questioning my gender

i wish i could tell you it gets easier
every time someone calls me a girl
when im wearing all mens clothes, a binder, and short hair
but it doesnt
it gets worse

so much worse

no matter the effort i put in
how hard i try
to present as masculine as possible
at the point where i cant even
see anything feminine about myself anymore

im always seen as the thing
that will always break me down

sometimes i think
it would be easier to take it all back
say im a girl and dress like one
at least then
ill be seen as how im trying to

ill hide behind a mask
say im something that im not

because arent i doing that already?
saying im okay and that it doesnt matter
when someone calls me a girl?
putting on  fake smile
and act like it doesnt feel
like someone took my spirit
and covered it
with the wrong color paint

i feel like i shouldnt be myself
most of the time

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

8 months
That's how long its been since you last spoke to me
I don't miss your name flashing on my screen anymore
Or the sound of your voice next to my ear

But the memories we made
The happiness I felt
That's what snatches fulfillment out of my hands

8 months*
That's how long I've associated your name
With the feeling of worthlessness