They make a hobby out of inappropriate jokes
To tell them to stop is to be told you are not one of them
As if
you ever were

You know your paranoia pushes you further
If they knew the would never see you the same
but do they really See you now?

you laugh to yourself
as you pick blue instead of pink
As if it makes a difference

Your shoulders swallow you whole

without your binder
you are naked
and exposed

Their bodies seem to fit them
comfortable and snug
Like a glove

While yours is like a glove
two sizes too small
and the wrong amount of fingers

I try to focus on the things that help
my voice has lowered
and my face has hair

But dysphoria is a funny thing
its still new to me

I realized I was turning into a boy,
When my sadness turned into anger —
The sight of my own bleeding knuckles
And marks on the wall scaring me.

I realized my soul had gotten louder,
When my sorrow turned into rage —
The thought of becoming the version she would've feared, once again terrifying me,
Knowing she's too vulnerable for this imagery.

I realized I was changing into myself,
When I remembered my fury was once called depression —
Becoming the wound
And not the wounded became my worst nightmare.

Dear past self,
We didn't die.
We didn't give up.
We didn't see our last day yet.
We didn't **** our optimism.
And that's good news.

But we are immensely different.
You changed, and so did i.
You liked the sun, i like the stars.
You yearned for someone, i found that person in me.
You had a name, i named myself.

You will build yourself,
From scraps of fear and uncertainty,
To be the person you didn't know you could be.
You will build yourself,
Because your old mold didn't fit you anymore,
And you needed space to grow.
You will build yourself,
To grow wings and live again
Like you wished for last night.
You will build yourself,
Give yourself a different name,
And travel the world stronger than ever.

Dear past self,
I'm probably a stranger to you.
So many things happened.
So many things changed.
I can't say for sure we're still the same person.

You are a girl, and i am a boy.
You are Emilie, and i am Athos.
You are insecure, and i am confident.
You are hopeless, and i finally feel alive.

Life will **** you,
And you'll resurrect from the ashes
Like a strong phoenix.
Life will **** you,
And you'll put your shattered pieces back together
Like a gorgeous mosaic.
Life will **** you,
And you'll build yourself up
Like a Greek statue.
Life will **** you,
So you can be born again
And have a second chance at life.

Your spark will come back.
No one stole it.
Your wings will grow.
They always meant to.
Your time for change will come.
And it's going to be the best and worst thing that has ever happened to you.

I keep telling myself that
I'm not hiding the past
I don't even know if I'm lying to myself anymore
why is it so scary to tell someone that i was once
a girl?
I still freeze in the men's bathroom
I'm trying to tell myself I'm not a fraud
Internalized transphobia slows down the movement
how can I be proud and
so scared?
I feel like I must hate my body more
I need to not like it to justify
my identity
and my world
But I don't my body feels to delicate to hate
even if it isn't mine i don't want to make it
cry?
My body has scars that will never go away
I have a chest that is not so comfortable for a boy
Why is it so hard to say I'm trans?
I'm proud of who i am
I swear I'm not hiding
the past?

my mind is a boy and
my body is a girl
i forget-
I forget.
then I see myself-
hips and waist and chest
and I'm surprised
"I didn't think I looked like this."
I forgot.
I'm a pretty boy.
Hair spiked, khol under my eyes
but i'm
a pretty girl too.
dress clings to my curves
and shows off the parts of me that
boys want to see.
I want to be a pretty boy.
i'm already a pretty girl. shouldn't that be easier?

I am a nameless creature so fluid,
Never the same from day to day.
I pinned myself down too soon,
On a whim I named myself.
It was the wrong time for it,
I was not ready and didn't think.
Now I am 17,
No longer the scared 13 year old I was.
The name I chose was wrong.
My parents detested it too much,
And it just wasn't mine.
I know no name shall feel like mine,
Not more than a few months,
But that's okay with me.
I will pin myself down again,
My name is now Max.
It may stick,
It may not.

He wants to be your boy
Soft and innocent
And rough, but coy
Though, he knows he'll never be intimate

You want to be a boy
A defined jaw
Ecstatic and full of joy
The most handsome boy you ever saw

I am a boy
I ruffle my hair when I talk
Standing confident in corduroy
But the definition is lost in the fog