I was thirteen
When I stole my mother's sleeping pills
She never used them
So she wouldn't find them missing
There were twenty two pills, but not enough
Because I woke up and cried when the sun rose through my window
I was fourteen
When my best friend did the same thing
Except she used ibuprofen
And they almost did what mine didn't
The cops got there first, before she fell asleep
She called me from the mental hospital and cried when I asked her why
I was fifteen
When I threw my blades away
For the first time in almost four years
My parents didn't know, and they didn't notice
The way I tried to get better without any help
So they wouldn't have to bury their youngest child
I was sixteen
When I finally came out
To the youth pastor's wife, someone I looked up to
She told me I was brave, for sharing with her
Telling someone you're transgender is like exposing your insides
They're ugly and imperfect, but it's who you are
I am seventeen
And my parents hate me
They don't need to tell me when they show it in their actions
But I can't change who I am, even if I wish I could
Because I'd rather hate myself than them hate me
We can't all have what we want
I'll be eighteen soon
Maybe then I can cut my hair
Free myself of the reminder of my lost childhood
My parents might not come around, but that's okay
Because I'll always have a home in other people
And when I come home for Christmas in the body I was meant to be in
Staying alive will have been worth it.
