Boy

wake up

undress

look down

the stress pours in my mind like water as it trickles down the drain, a pain the main percentage of the general population never feels

so how do i learn to deal with this, with this fat hanging off my chest and these curves in places where they’d never be on what’s considered a “real boy”

but what’s a real boy anyway?

and if it’s not me, what am i?

a grey area, a there she ah-goes again, shopping from the mens section and chopping off her hair, oh god, why cant she just be a normal girl?

after all, my version of the piece of paper that they assign to every child does read female

that and a name that makes me want to scream bloody murder because the pain it puts me through isnt something anyone should gain if they want to stay sane

but anyway, going back to my body

well, to put it simply, it robs me of my happiness and i cant tell you how many nights i’ve spent sobbing and screaming and hoping and believe me, if i could make it go away i would

but the truth is that i cant stand this voice and its highness and this face and its roundness and this chest and its fullness and everything else about the human nest my xx chromosomes live inside to taunt me with the words of everyone who’s ever called me “she” to hurt me or even just because they saw me and thought i was a she, was a her, was a girl

but really, i cant blame them because i dont portray a him, or a he, or a boy, or a me

so i’m just sitting here inside my house that i can no longer leave because of the fear that someone on the street will see me and read me as what i appear to be

and i’m crying and shaking and writing some shitty piece about my aching to be called boyfriend by my s/o’s , son by my mother , please uncles call me nephew, please siblings call me brother

i cant change my biology

but you can change the words you use and honestly, i’m fucking tired of pretending that i dont care what you call me because i care so much that at this point i’m only half joking when i say i’m going to kill myself

i mean, maybe i’m already dying because it feels like i’m choking on every “she” i’m forced to swallow and pretend that i’m not noticing

so do me a favor

remember only this if the words ive spoken are fading from your mind.

please be so kind as to call me boy.