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BlewBirdArtPoems
I am thirteen when the mean girls call me weird— I do not shave I do not wear makeup. I do wear basketball shorts and messy ponytails. I am pressured to be her— Aria. I shave relentlessly for the next two years. I am fifteen full of discomfort and anger breaking my bones like they are glass reckless rage— all reckless no brave depraved of a home inside my own skin. I am fifteen when I learn what gender dysphoria is. I am fifteen when I realize I am a boy that I always have and will be a boy. I am fifteen— putting holes in wall and overdosing on advil like it is a sport championing my own self demise. I am fifteen afraid and closeted— I write my name as ALEX on my school assignments I always change it back before I turn them in. I am fifteen convinced everyone loves the girl I am not and will never love me as the boy I actually am. I am sixteen crying on the floor of a psych ward this is my fifth hospitalization in fourteen months. Pretending to be her is killing me. I choke back tears as I tell my mom that I am transgender. She tells me she loves me, and she saw me writing ALEX on my papers. It will take five years for her to let her daughter go. I am seventeen when I am shoved to the floor in a men's bathroom slammed and slurred across the tile— It will not be until six months into Hormone Replacement Therapy that I use the men's public restroom. I am eighteen when my moms boyfriend of the time pulls me aside and tells me I am making a mistake. He would wear his mothers dresses and heels, hiding in her closet all of this is to say this is a phase. When people say that this is a phase— I am sixteen sobbing on linoleum floors covered in cuts wanting nothing more than death if I have to pretend to be her for more than one second longer. I am nineteen hopeful and naive. Voice cracking and hair sprouting I am coming into my own body. I have learned that there are things much worse than needles. I am twenty out of the ashes of abuse and trauma I am finally becoming the man I have always been meant to be.
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Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 2:27 AM UTC
An Aria
I am thirteen when the mean girls call me weird— I do not shave I do not wear makeup. I do wear basketball shorts and messy ponytails. I am pressured to be her— Aria. I shave relentlessly for the next two years. I am fifteen full of discomfort and anger breaking my bones like they are glass reckless rage— all reckless no brave depraved of a home inside my own skin. I am fifteen when I learn what gender dysphoria is. I am fifteen when I realize I am a boy that I always have and will be a boy. I am fifteen— putting holes in wall and overdosing on advil like it is a sport championing my own self demise. I am fifteen afraid and closeted— I write my name as ALEX on my school assignments I always change it back before I turn them in. I am fifteen convinced everyone loves the girl I am not and will never love me as the boy I actually am. I am sixteen crying on the floor of a psych ward this is my fifth hospitalization in fourteen months. Pretending to be her is killing me. I choke back tears as I tell my mom that I am transgender. She tells me she loves me, and she saw me writing ALEX on my papers. It will take five years for her to let her daughter go. I am seventeen when I am shoved to the floor in a men's bathroom slammed and slurred across the tile— It will not be until six months into Hormone Replacement Therapy that I use the men's public restroom. I am eighteen when my moms boyfriend of the time pulls me aside and tells me I am making a mistake. He would wear his mothers dresses and heels, hiding in her closet all of this is to say this is a phase. When people say that this is a phase— I am sixteen sobbing on linoleum floors covered in cuts wanting nothing more than death if I have to pretend to be her for more than one second longer. I am nineteen hopeful and naive. Voice cracking and hair sprouting I am coming into my own body. I have learned that there are things much worse than needles. I am twenty out of the ashes of abuse and trauma I am finally becoming the man I have always been meant to be.
#ftm#pridemonth#trans#transgender
BlewBirdArt
Written by
BlewBirdArt
Trans Male
Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 2:27 AM UTC
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