Poems, Short Drafts, Rambles, and Reflections

Put My Fake Face On And Pretend Now

Chapter title from "Let You Down" by NF.

It's so hard pretending.

Pretending that everything they say hurts.

Pretending that when they talk it doesn't hit you deep inside.

That something inside you doesn't crumble just a little bit more.

-

Off hand comments are the worst.

How they see a girl who got their hair cut and their first thought is "oh, that must be easy to wash."

You know that you want to get your hair cut too, short just like she did.

But you're scared to tell  them that now bc they'll just think their 'daughter' is tired of taking care of her long hair.

-

It hurts when they ask,

"When did you stop likeing dresses, you always used to."

"What do you mean you don't want to get your nails painted?"

"Why don't you just compromise, you don't have to wear a skirt or anything sparkly."

Just because I liked doing all these things at a time that I can barely even remember does not mean that I like to do them in my own free will and conscience.

-

I'm tired of compromising.

I'm tired of lowering my standards to fit to what everyone thinks their 'daughter' should like and do and want to be.

I'm tired on sacrificing what I want and like in order to fit in.

I'm tired of hurting myself to make everyone else happy.

And I'm tired of pretending it doesn't hurt.

-

I told them I wouldn't wear dresses anymore.

For any reason.

Not for church, not for family events, not for holidays, not for anything and nobody unless I, and only I, wanted to.

That got met with one of the most painful comments that I have ever heard from them.

"Do you want to be a boy?"

Yeah, they said that'd be fine if I did.

But still.

-

It's like they just couldn't accept the fact that their 'daughter' would just like those things and wear those things and act like that wihtout wanting to be the opposite sex.

I said, "No. Trust me, I do not want to be a boy." as I walked into the other room where they couldn't see me and let my mask fall off.

-

I stood there.

Frowning.

Hurt.

I wasn't lying.

I really didn't want to be a boy.

Besides, people didn't "want" to be a boy or girl, they were boys and girls.

But... I didn't really want to be a girl either.

I wasn't either.

-

I grew up with two brothers.

A twin and a younger one.

I quickly grew independent from my twin, and eventually my younger one as well.