They told me to write about the family dynamic,
and even though they were careful to say

"The" family dynamic,

I was quite sure they wanted to say

"My" family dynamic.

The way I'm quite sure that when my mother asks if I'm gay,
and if that is the reason I'm sporting a gay pride belly ring,
that she is actually saying,

"I swear to God if you're a **** that's the last straw."

Catholic upbringings seem to only account for politely covering up
hidden agendas, not actually purging them in place of acceptance.

My family dynamic is the blank stare I gave my mother that day.
It is the uncertainty I feel on a daily basis. A constant debate on
whether or not I should send her fragile ideals about me spinning
off their axis, admit to being bisexual. In my mind I always look
her in the eyes and say something along the lines of,

"Don't worry mother, I could never be gay. I enjoy a good hetero ******* too much."

In reality I smile and shake my head.  Leaving her to go on living in a world
where daughters don't have premarital ***, or lose babies, or try to **** themselves.
In a world where her good catholic daughter could never be gay.

There's a rainbow in the corner of my window
it must be saying something.
The clouds are gay! The lakes are gay!
The trees are gay! The airplane is gay!
The flight attendant is gay!
Houses hidden in the hills below look up
and wonder if I'm gay too.
The sun hiding at the edge of a cloud
tells me the ocean's gay didn't we know?
She has a fluid sexuality and loses her
temper sometimes we call it flooding.
The sky declared itself androgynous
and changes genders every twelve hours.
The sunset is proudly bisexual
and displays both pink and blue every evening
as it heads to the club and the sky switches genders.
The city of San Francisco is gay!
and the rainbow disappears.

Dear legal codependents,

I am not my daddy’s girl.
I am not my mom’s best friend.
It’s not my choice, it’s who I am.
Have you ever stopped to think, perhaps,
That maybe one of those people you so harshly judge
Is sitting across from you- your own flesh and blood?
How can you love me anymore?
According to you, I’m just a *****.
Abomination, miscreation, I love you, I disgust you, I know.
You’ve lost a daughter, she’s moving on.

Sincerely- your daughter, your first born, your pride.
Sincerely- bisexual, immoral, criminal me.

He claims to love me
But still holds hope
For me to morph
Part of who I am
He can't get it
Through his
Thick lovable skull
I believe in God
Not the Bible
I cannot commit
To being Christian
He can't face the fact
I'm bisexual
But still love him madly
And I know he's afraid
I will not go to heaven with him
I know he fears I'll leave him for
A woman
But I swear he's my one and only
I hope foolishly
He'll move past all this
But a part of me fears
This problem won't go
And he'll leave me because he
Is simply too afraid.

We live a life of secrecy,
It is not our choice,
Society makes us outcasts,
Some do not accept us,
Others judge us,
We are true to ourselves,
We were born this way,
We are gay,
Lesbians,
Bisexuals,
Transgender,
*******,
We are drag queens,
We are weird,
Different,
Original,
We are true,
No one can change that,
Whether they judge,
Scream.
Yell,complain,
Or refuse us,
We will stand tall,
And we will be strong.

In the bible
They say death
Is a lie but
If I'm already
Dead then
Why should I
Even care?

What kind of society do we live in that makes people feel this way?

I told myself I would never succumb,
I pace back and forth with tears streaming down my face
telling myself again and again
"I'm strong I'm strong"

I look in the mirror
and I beg to see something beautiful.
I beg to find pretty,
but I have yet to see it.
"You're beautiful You're beautiful"
I tell myself again and again
But I never believe it.

I collapse to the ground, sobbing
because I've failed.
six water bottles
and feeling sick
as that hopeless feeling takes over me.

I look in the mirror
and beg for a sign that I'm okay
something to tell me I don't have to do this.

But there I end up,
crippled over the toilet
vomiting my insecurities.

What else can you do.
You starve yourself but nothing changes,
You exercise none stop
but you stay the same.

You've thrown away the food in the house
to keep the bare, healthy minimum.

Nothing changes.
Nothing but shivers
and a voice
that knows you'll do anything for a touch;
Maybe if I'm skinny,
I won't be alone.
Maybe,
Someone will find me pretty enough to ask if I'm okay.
I wouldn't have to sit here sobbing
feeling hopeless.

But nothing changes.
Nothing changes and I can't stop the tears.
Looking into that horrific mirror,
Looking back at that red,
pudgy,
unpleasant face
mocking me.

A broken body

with a  broken mind

what else can I do,

when nothing changes?