Dysphoria

Morning Tea

"'Who are you? What's your name?"

He screams at his reflection.
He screams at the round freckled face,

At the body with small features and curves to create the iconic hourglass look,
And at the eyes that hold his true self in the eye glass reflection case;
Glossed over with the tears
Trying to find some kind of connection.

He screams at his whole being.

'Who are you?'

He begins to demand, clenched hands with nails beginning to draw blood in the cracked palms.
The glass reflections in his eyes shatters as the shards run down his pale cheeks.
The reflection's dark eyes and crooked grin chuckles in a light tone
As scars begin to appear, the deep red and cross marks as the crimson creates trails.

'I am you.'

The woman's voice echoes in the dark room that begins to enclose.

'I am you.'

As the echoes vibrate louder, shaking the mirror, each word, each syllable, it gets louder.
Shards of glass take flight towards his being as the blood enhances the freckles on his face.
Embedding themselves into his small and fragile fingers as he continues to strike at the mirror.
The world around him continuously grows darker.
His eyesight blurry and eyelids growing heavy.
His body aching for release from the pale and cracked shell caked in blood.
His shaky, raspy voice barely escapes his cracked lips,

'Who am I?'

With one final moment before his escape,
Finger gently cares the edges of a broken mirror
And shattered, tired eyes take one more glance.

The woman's voice rings.

"'I am you.'"

  they tell me-
"can you live in this body for the rest of your life?"
but i can't even imagine
living
until tomorrow night.

They say they understand feeling uncomfortable  in their bodies

but it's nothing  like this 

It's nothing that deals with something I can change

Trust me If i could chop off these lump on my chests right now I would

trust me if i could see myself as "a man" 

I would. 

we are banned.

we are outed

we are one 

we must all stand up together 

until then I'll be here in my bed too scared to leave.

My anxiety is always scared to be under the comfort of my comforter 

but my depression always brings me right back to my yellow sheets that make up my safe place

my bed. 

I lie my head and cry myself to sleep. 

My head

I then feel my bald head and cradle myself back and forth trying hard to stay grounded. 

It's not that easy though

I wish everyone would understand how hard it is

Imagine every Christmas you ask for a dog 

for 16 years straight

then one day you get a knock on the door and there is a dead cat

you wanted a dog 

but you got a dead cat

so you treat it just like a puppy 

you give it a cute name 

and give it a chew toy

thankfully its a boy

you carry it around everywhere with you 

but it's still not a dog 

that's what being transgender is like. 

I wait for the day for someone to stop asking me 

IF IM OKAY

 im not okay

but I will still say "Yeah im fine" or 

"I'm just tired" 

Depression and Dysphoria, the perfect morning tea. 

It will all be.

be. just be.