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E Dec 2020
Dysphoria is lifting a hot cup of bare black coffee to your lips
It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and third degree burns on your skin

It's one of the strongest romances I've had
She stalks wherever and whenever
Yet when pools of blood start to pour
Subsequently from slashes on my wrist
A smile stands tall on my brim

The story of hypocrisy beyond comprehension
How could a human find themselves in obsession
With disorders more dangerous than inventions
And still hold empathy in question

Truth is,
Despotic relations fueled with dissonant expectations
Transcend into deeper feelings of euphoria
Barbwire grappling my throat for seconds that feel like years
But then the pressure suddenly decreases
I'm left with rusted thorns and gaping flesh
Undoubtely grateful to stay alive
Relief washes over and taking a breath feels heavenly
As the opportunity to face demons comes again
The chances of overcoming rise above my head

Hazard and danger don't become horror anymore
If you take it by the throat and butcher it first
Growing into a body you dislike
while everyone is having the best time of their lives
you can't help but feel envy
people can show more skin than you do
because you hide in fabric that binds
people can go about daily conversations
you can't due to anxiety on how your voice sounds
people can walk into bathrooms without thinking
while some wonder if they'll be assaulted simply for being different

the presence of dysphoria hinders the quality of life
it's painful.
it leaves you jealous and scarred.
and the presence of euphoria reverses every horror of dysphoria and slams it on its head.
euphoria makes you feel ****, empowered, powerful.
Anxiety and stress erase while you feel radical and loathe in self-love for how you've crafted yourself to feel happy.

The existence of hate and how I am expected to accept it into my life, turning it upside down and under, makes euphoria even more satisfactory. The feelings of radicalness I feel will never be felt by a cis person. They do not hold the same roles to accept that their life will be miserable and unlovable on the basis of gender identity.
a dress
a skirt
pink lipstick
that never felt quite like me
baggy pants
baseball cap
dirt and roughhousing
that wasn't quite me either
I was ugly
or at least everyone told me I was
I was too masculine acting
sometimes feminine features
my chest was too flat to be a real girl
my walk was too swagger infused
my fashion style, too--- not enough cleavage if you know what I mean
apparently a shirt and a pair of pants suddenly made me unattractive to both sexes
both sexes
both
I felt like both
makeup and a baseball cap
flat chest, and a flower skirt
skateboards and hair products galore
looking back,
I was always fluid.
the gender waters in which I was drowing
I was only drowning in because I can swim in both currents
fluid
fluid
fluid
****
Living
Under
Imposed
Doctrines

— The End —