a deadname is not just a name
it is a person that you want to forget
that person lived the most tragic life
and that person died the most tragic death

“deadname, deadname!!”
the people all shout
but that persons gone, finding their own way about

instead, they were replaced by another
with a more comfortable smiling face
who will follow their own lead
and can be who they want to be

my deadname does not represent ME.

It's always between the two.
Myself or everyone else?
Myself or my family?
Honest to myself or acceptable to everyone else?
Truth or tradition?

I don't want to lose them, their respect, everyone's respect.
Nobody is going to accept me or take me seriously, and I can't just give up everything I'm known as.
Can't give up the little I have left.

But I can't live like this.
Every day like this just feels so wrong.
I hate myself,
I hate living.

I can't live my life like this, live someone else's life.
I try to convince myself that I'm wrong, that I'm just doing it for the 'trend', for attention
but I can't.
I can't stand looking like this, being seen as something I'm just not.

But a big part of society hates the existence of people like me,
my friends hate the existence of people like me,
my family hates the existence of people like me.

What am I meant to do?
I hate this so much.
The constant reminders, the self-hatred, peer-judgment, fear, frustration, people on social media and the news and the government and ****,
I hate this so so so much.

Why do I not want to tell them?

...

The last time I told them about something that was so important to me was when I came out to them as nonbinary.
I thought they were at least slightly accepting, she had had a gay friend after all, and they had never shown any obvious transphobia.
(Its funny how, after I came out, the bigotry became a lot more prevalent).

And so, I went to my grandma's kitchen, sat on the floor, in a corner, and typed out
"I am nonbinary"
in our group chat.
My thumb hovered over send for what seemed like an eternity
until, finally,
I pressed send.
And then I started to cry.

They had texted back "okay" and "what does that mean" but I didn't respond. I couldn't respond.
When she picked me up a few hours later, we talked.
Well, she talked.

She told me how I'm just confused
and how theres only two genders giving me some ****** up biology lesson about it, using the terms "gender" and "***" interchangeably.
and how society had just manipulating me to be this way
and how it was a sin against God
and how I don't get a choice in this
and how I'm a
beautiful girl
and I didn't have to be insecure about it.

I was
broken
by these words.
I cried that night.
I cried
           and cried
because I realized that
they would never accept me.
They would never love me.

I think I
                attempted
to
                                  ­              **** myself
that night.

I don't remember, exactly
There were so many attempts that I just
can't remember
anymore.

...

Why do I not want to tell them?

Because
I'm scared.
I don't want to be ridiculed and criticized.
I don't want to break my own heart again.
I don't want to be rejected again.
I don't trust them anymore.

I don't want to tell them, because they lost my
trust.

Every
Birthday candle
Angel hour
Fountain coin
Church prayer
Dandelion blow

I wish for the same thing.
I'm still waiting for my wish to come true.

She came to my bed last night,
and told me to pray.

"Pray for God to help with your stress in school," she said.
"Oh, but I'm not stressed"
"So pray thanks to God for that."
"Okay..."
She doesn't leave.
"Am I praying to you or to Him?"
She sighs and sits next to me.

"Repeat after me..."
Padre nuestro que estás en el cielo,
santificado sea tu Nombre;
venga a nosotros tu Reino;
hágase tu voluntad
en la tierra como en el cielo.
Danos hoy
nuestro pan de cada día;
perdona nuestras ofensas,
como también nosotros perdonamos
a los que nos ofenden;
no nos dejes caer en la tentación,
y líbranos del mal. Amén.

I do as she says. She gives me a kiss and smiles.
"I love you. You'll always be my girl."
I smile back.
"Good night."

Once she leaves, I turn in my bed to face the wall
and I cry.
I cry, "She'll never love me."
I cry, "She'll never accept me."
I cry, "She'll only ever love her."
I cry, "What is wrong with me?"

The waves of pain crash into me
It starts in my chest,
And rolls all the way to my finger tips
And out through my eyes.
It hurts so much.

I look up, and I pray,
"Why, God, have you made me like this?
Why have you made me into something that is so wrong in your eyes, in her eyes?
All I wanted was to be loved and happy.
God, please,
Why am I like this?
Why do I have to live like this?
Why have you given me a choice between two sins:
Either live as myself, my gender diverse self, my oh so sinful self
Or **** myself because I can't bear to live any other way.
Why, God?
Why won't you just let me die?"

I sob into my pillow, quietly enough so that they won't hear me from their bedroom on the opposite side of the hall.
But God hears everything, doesn't He?
Why doesn't He hear me?

Every day is a performance, a never ending act
I always must perform or people will attack
I've become nothing more than a fake
I've no idea how much more I can take
They've forced me to hide who I love, who I am-deep down inside
When all I've ever wanted is to embrace myself with pride
They force me to wear a mask
Every day, a constant task

“Be yourself, be independent” they say
Yet when I do they always turn away
It shouldn't be like this, it isn't ******* fair
But who am I kidding, they don't ever care
The only time they care is when there's another suicide on TV
I worry I'll share that fate, just another statistic to be
I don't know where to go or what to do
So I'm crying for help, a message to you

“Lumen,” meaning light in Italian,
“Luna,” moon in Spanish.
Luminary; a person who inspires or influences others—
A natural body of light.

An illuminated individual saying,
“I’m bright. I’m seen.”

I always liked how the Moon shines and brightens the night.
They lead their storm of stars in the dark blue sky.
Everyone below could see as they would confidently stride.
Humans and fireflies might make their own light, but neither could compare to that of the moon.
Lumin is a bright leader, casting their light onto the world.

Lumin isn’t intimidated by those who can’t handle their radiance.
They keep shining on anyway.

So why am I?