Last summer

I tried to cut off a part of my body

The scar is still there

I'm stupid

But my ******* aren't a part of me anymore

This face I see in the mirror
It doesn’t belong to me
This long hair
These pale blue eyes
Whos are they
They are not mine
They do not belong to me

The people at school do not understand why I hide my body
I hide with baggy clothing and short hair
But everyone can see through this mask I wear
I smile and say I’m fine but they can see every word I say is a lie

So I tell them why I do these thing
“ But why you're such a pretty young girl”
I say not girl and they say woman
I say Boy
They say Girl
I say Kole
They say Maggie

What did I do to deserve this
Whats wrong with my name whats wrong with who I am
I don’t judge people for who they like or who they are of who they want to be
You don’t judge people for dying their hair or changing their nose
But as soon as I say I want to be called a name it’s histarea

Whats wrong with one name
They say “ what next? Do u want to go to the boys locker room and hang out with them.”
Yeah so I feel more comfortable
But no I must fit society
I must be what i'm perceived as
I must be this robot that follows every command

Were fed this false information that anyone who is different is wrong or bad
We must hide from different
We must cage it
As soon as we are perceived as different we become a mouse in a cage full of lions
We get attacked

There are those few how will jump into the lion cage to save the small mouse
But then you get stolen away from your savoir and put in a cage for inspection
They scrutinize every part of you

Im a rainbow in sky full of clouds and I’m all alone
I know there are others but until you come out you are who they made you to be
Then when you do finally say how you feel you get rejected and hated and told you are not valid

I am here to tell every person who has ever felt this way
You are valid and loved and strong
Don’t listen to them

And to those of you who disregard their pronouns or hate them for loving who they love
You are wrong you do not understand everything they could be going through
Take it from someone who knows transphobia and bulling first hand you bullies never win
The small mouse in the cage of lions out smarts all of you and escapes through the bars while you stand stunned and stuck in that cage with no goal now I’m gone

do you remember, sweetheart,
    the night I broke in
and painted the wall outside rose-colored?
through the tiny window,
    you stared at my handiwork
with shining eyes.
though there was a wall between us
    I felt you shudder into becoming,
handcuffs trembling on your wrists.
trembling, trembling,
    then dropping with a clang
as you exploded into stardust.
in the shimmering emptiness of your cell
my seashell ears
echoed anxious music
but I breathed you into
    weightless lungs
and felt the longing of mother sky

The smell of dirt envelopes me as i run down the street and turn the corner.
Sliding down the wet pavement i feel my bare feet rub raw.
i can taste blood from biting the insides of my cheeks, maybe even my tongue.
i finally escaped after so long.
In the distance i hear a dead girls name being called.
They dont really care i tell myself.
If they did they would be calling a different name.
Mine.
Its only a matter of time once the cops come, searching for a girl they will never find.
A girl who doesn’t exist.

Once upon a time there was a little boy.
He lived inside of a girls body, hiding under layers of soft, silky skin.
Under an itchy dress with sparkling gold thread that chafed his chest as he moved, leaving rashes across his sensitive shoulders.
Despite being pressed into the mold of a young girl, he managed to survive.
His long hair tumbling down his shoulders, in sheets of brown that shined with honey in the sun.
His eyelashes were long. His eyes were dewey.
Freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and small freckles on his arm.
His mother called them angel kisses.
That boy was me.
In first grade he got his hair cut short. His parents warned him that people might think he was a boy. That was okay.
It stayed that way until 4th grade. His hair was in a short bob, shaved on the side. His neighbors called him a ****. One of them bullied him so he poured the kids sprite down his face.
The bully stomped on the boys toe and he bled. That was okay.
In 6th grade, he told his best friend a secret. He wasn’t a girl.
His best friend called him handsome.
She was the perfect friend.

Now the girl doesn’t exist. Her parents pretend she does. She has been gone for a long time.
She is dead. Her parents know that she is gone, but they think if they pretend enough, that she will come back, that if i am denied love and support i will eventually waste away into oblivion, and she will come back.
i’m still running, but now i yell out too.
i am here.
i am real.
I am Ronan

Dear Elliana,
Your long, blonde hair is woven between the veins of my hearts which I do not love but can’t throw out
What can I say? I’m sentimental
Even though I have deleted every fragrance and reminder of you, the world still sees you before they see me
I still have a lot of your old makeup
The fear of wearing it brings a stomach ache
I liked your eyeliner though
You had good taste
I get told I looked better as you by family whose eyes see only your pronouns instead of mine
I am gifted dresses still in your name, and I throw them out immediately
They want you back but **** those poeple because they never even knew you
Dear Elliana,
I am sorry I had to **** you in my memories
I never imagined you would be a bad thing
A lot of my new friends don’t know you
Dear Elliana,
I am sorry I am shattering the mirror of your body
I want to sell your hips, gift your ******* to someone who wants them
I was born and you didn’t hurt yourself anymore
You force yourself out of my lips in a guilty conscience every time I see you in another’s eyes
Dear Elliana,
I remember when you met me
It was the year you turned thirteen
It was the first time you said out loud that you didn't want to live anymore
In therapy you said you wouldn't make it to 19
On my 19th birthday I thought about you
You were right
I've been trying to write this letter for 6 months
I still can't decide if it should be an apology or not
But now you will never hear "Elliana ***" announced at a college graduation,
Get married, give birth
Dear Elliana,
I start testosterone in two weeks
I know what will happen when it starts taking effect
My body will stop being able to produce the potential for new life every month
I thought about your children, how I wanted them too
You will never be a grandparent
I’m sorry
You will never hold your lover’s sleeping figure
I’m sorry
You will never hear “Mommy! Watch me on the slide!”
I’m sorry
The child you saw in your dreams will never wrap their arms around your legs for comfort
I am sorry
The testosterone will come and you will become a memory I wish to forget
I am sorry
I apologize for the people who see me as a mistake, as something disgusting
I ask myself:
Am I a mistake?
Am I disgusting?
No, I don’t think so anymore
Dear Elliana,
You had a place
Never forget that
You still do
Just not the way you planned
Yours, Taron
P.S I never hated you
Even though sometimes I wish I could
P.P.S
The one thing we both hated will soon be gone
I soon say goodbye to your cheeks!

You say support for us is “collaborating with madness”
I must really be nothing to you
Someday I will wake you up
The alarm clock will not come with a snooze button
If you want to quiet me, you will have to throw the clock
Against the wall
Let it smash into a million pieces
But you will always hear a faint phantom ringing in your ears
It will grow louder
And louder
It will never truly be silenced.

You think I’m crazy
A queer little copycat
Let me let you in on a little secret
The world moves on, with or without you
I will move on, with or without you
I know that it is likely to be the latter
In a way, I almost want it to be
Black cannot become white without first having specks of grey
You are the deepest, darkest black of night
I am a myriad of colors

“Have I gone mad, Alice?
“I’m afraid so. You’re entirely bonkers. But let me tell you a secret. All the best people are.”
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We’re all mad here.
Some of us just refuse to see
People hide behind their bibles
Yet speak of things that aren’t even written in them
Where does our God say, “Thou shalt not be transgender?”
You use the book as an excuse
As a shield for your bigotry
You may as well spit on the cover
Or light the pages ablaze with your disrespect.