I emailed a name when I was eighteen, a request to join a German class after add/drop week had passed. They said, “it is a bit late now, but I would welcome you in the class”. Strings of emails went between us, emails I shall remember, emails with pure kindness in them. Because kindness continued to exist beyond emails. Because I told my roommate how kind they were in their emails. Because my roommate read their emails too. Because his name was genderless; much like his heart. Because his class felt safe from the first day. Because for once I wasn’t on guard in a class on my first day. Because in other classrooms I was. Because he and five boys felt safe. Because his classes were at night. Because he became a dad to me. Because he was madly in love with his wife. Because he spoke of her so fondly; Because he was in love with her. Because he was not tired of her. Because he gave me hope. Because he was a stranger who I told that I was dying. Because he wished me well when I went under surgery. Because he reminded my roommate of a golden retriever. Because my roommate had never met him and knew if she was ever in danger that he was a sanctuary. Because an accusation was thrown on him. Because an accusation was thrown on I. Because I carry the heart of a fatherless child. Because the world wishes to keep me fatherless. Because the first words out of my mother’s mouth were “is the person who said this childless?”. Because childless people do not understand the hearts of children, especially fatherless children. Because fatherless adults wish to compare themselves to fatherless children. Because I was in the fifth grade when my teacher’s father passed. Because she said “now we both don’t have fathers”. Because when I was eighteen, my teacher missed her pop-pop dearly. Because she told me I loved him in a way that women love their men. Because it was a reminder that I am a fatherless child. Because I went home and cried. Because I still cry. Because I cried so much, I scared my roommate. Because I wrote him an email saying “I wish to discuss something in person”. Because he emailed back ten minutes later asking me if I was okay. Because he gave me the number for campus police. Because he thought I was in danger. Because he shared with me a complete hand-out of every resource available in Indiana. Because he was worried. Because he emailed me. Because he said he would be in his office the day prior to class. Because he had a passion for teaching. Because he was my male role model. Because I told him about my love for rock music. Because I told him I could drive a Jet-Ski. Because I wasn’t scared of him. Because I was never scared of him. Because I wasn’t scared of the name welcoming me in class. Because Ich kann Deutsch.

Life. What is life?
What is life,
when I am constantly running in circles,

What is life
When the meaning of love gets lost?

What is life when you feel like everyone’s telling you what to do,
And You feel powerless,

What is life when you sit in front of a computer,
Typing out your feelings,
Because no one will hear,

But they will suggest,
Not realizing that their suggestions make the eyes heavy,
And the heart heavier,
And the conscience the heaviest

You say I give you mixed signals,
I push you away,
But you won't leave me alone,
You want me to trust you,
Be with you,
But how do I know your different from the others,
That you won't just walk out,
Piercing my heart into pieces which my bleeding hands will have to pick up,

I love you,
I really do and I want to spend the rear of my life with you,
But darling,
How can I trust you when I don't even trust myself,

It's a scary thought to trust you with the most vulnerable parts of myself only for you to walk out,
See I tried to share myself with others before,
Only to get hurt,
It was like walking on eggshells,
Some walk out,
And I thank them,
For others used my vulnerability against me,

So you see,
I want to trust you,
But this heart doesn't,
This heart that loves you,
Doesn't want to trust you cause it's been broken many times,
And the only thing holding it together is a single drop of glue,
One it fears you will remove,
And then this heart will fall forever upon the endless pits of doom,

You're a great friend,
And I feel comfortable sharing things with you,
But some things I don't want to share,
Not even with myself,

It is better to not tell you the way I feel,
For we are better as friends,
Friends are all that we are,
And it is all I say to you everytime you say I give you mixed signals,
Friend you are,
Lover you are not.

I had nothing in life,
Every day was pitch black,
Dad was dead,
We were barely getting by,
The same mundane routine every day,
I'd get off from school,
Only to get beaten by my uncle who for lack of a better word was a drunk,

I remembered screaming,
Crying,
But he wouldn't stop,
And when I complained to my grandparents siblings,
They laughed it off as it were one big joke,
It was funny to them,
To see an eight year old complain about being abused,

I was ten when I met the worst teacher ever,
She yelled at me for using the wrong pen,
A freakin pen,
It was my first day in that school,
It only got worse from their,
Anything would make this woman mad,
From getting an answer wrong to wearing the wrong ponytail,
Nothing could make her happy,

When I was eleven,
I published my first story online,
People,
Even family laughed at me,
They said no one would like my work,
And when I got a call from a publishing house to publish in their magazine weekly,
They didn't want me to accept it,
Saying that it was a waste of my time,
That I should focus more on school,

I took it,
They thought I was a fool,
But I kept on going,

When I was fifteen,
I wrote my first poem,
And when I said I was going to publish in an anthology,
They called me a liar,
Saying my work could have not been that great,

But what is the point of telling you all this,
The point is,
That people will hurt you at every step of your life,
And then when you're successful,
Open their hands and ask for their share,
People are mean,
People take enjoyment in hurting others,

My wings were bleeding,
They had so many cuts,
And when I tried to fly,
It hurt so much,
And when I rebuilt them,
They tried to cut them again,
But their scissors broke,
Because I built them out of gold

They assigned us our gender at birth,
As if it were the only thing that mattered,
Those were the first shackles confined to us,
You were three when you heard the words men don't cry,
I was eight when I heard,
You are a girl you can't do that,
On and on they tied more chains to us,
We were bleeding,
Our souls were screaming,
But no words escaped our mouths,

They made fun of us when we were just kids and they were grown adults,
Teachers,
They said were your role models,
Little did they know,
Those same people that they called role models,
They added more shackles,
Shackles that were so heavy for our small bodies,
But we carried them along with every thing else,

Walking home from school,
We heard the Aunties talking behind our backs,
Some said it to our faces,
Lose some weight,
Girls aren't supposed to be tall,
Boys don't sing,
Boys are supposed to be tough,

Boys shouldn't,
Girls shouldn't,
Boys don't,
Girls don't,
That's all we heard,
We wanted to scream,
But we couldn't,

They cut our wings,
And then burnt them right infront if our very eyes,
Tears shed from those eyes,
But we were quiet,

At night when it was silent,
And everyone was asleep,
We couldn't fall asleep,
Those racing thoughts in our head,
The dreams we locked up pounded to get out,
The screams trapped inside if us,
All came at night,
You weeped ever so quietly,
That no one could hear you,
So that to anyone listening it was dead quiet,

Why you ask,
Why were we quiet,
Because they were our elders,
We expected them to guide us,
But they did the opposite,
They tied us,
Beat us,
And when we showed them the blood,
They ignored it,
They blamed us for the blood they caused,
And then they wonder why we end our lives,

Death so silent,
It reminds us of us,
We stayed quiet to keep our elders pleased,
And death so silent to keep us at ease,
But sometimes it will whisper you are free,
Only to find broken shagments of a soul that was once there