My brother knows,
Though really, he will never understand.
I ask him if I pass,
If this binder does it.
He says, "not really,"
I just look down,
but then suddenly,
My thoughts start to stray.
I realize I'm not flat,
I realize I'm feminine
I realize too small
I realize I don't fit in them
Them being the category that is a male
Them being the jeans that I try despereately try to fit my waist in,
Them being society,
Them being normal.
I stand in front of a mirror 20 minutes a day looking at the small details that remind me I am "She"
I will always be "she"
I will never be "he"
Never.
And my mom knows that, so why should she bother trying to change it?
She says I have chosen a stupid name,
But it is not like I had any adult figure to help me pick it out,
So why is it my fault?
I wish I didn't feel like this,
But I do not have a choice.
Well...
this is not entirely true.
I could choose to not think too hard when people call me "She"
I could choose to not look in the mirror and call myself "She"
I could choose to understand that everyone knows me as "She"
And I could choose to move on
But I don't.
I told my mom, she said I'd grow up to regret it.
I gave her the statistics, but that wasn't enough.
She said "she"
She called me by my name,
No, not the name that I have chosen, the name she had chosen for me.
And I ignored it.
And I didn't say anything.
But it still makes me feel empty when I realize I have too many parts that make me a 'whole,'
3 parts I can't look at without feeling my eyes sting,
3 parts I can't wait to get off of me,
But that will never happen.
Because,
I will always be
"She."