And So I Stand Here

I have caught a glimmer of hope that maybe I could speak my own name of three syllables without slurs being whispered behind it like some sort of animal. 

And yet, here I stand alone with a whimper in my voice when it should be shouted at the top of my lungs how proud I am on the inside.

I stand here, in front of drooling mouths and failing grades that we call our classmates, pouring out my soul onto paper with my fingers tracing my story like its old news told time and time and time again wishing that those slurs wouldn't be spat out of the mouths of such adolescent children all because I decided to be different from mainstream society. 

And yet, there those evil comments are, floating around my skull like a merry-go-round that isn't so merry. 

I stand here because I know I am worthy.

Worthy of life, worthy of love, worthy of praise from those around me.

Worthy of the creative mind that is nestled between my shoulders. 

Worthy of the right to let you and you bow down a kneel at my greatness and how I survived a troubling childhood that nearly brought me to kiss 6 feet under, that made me think as I sat on my bed how to end it all with a bottle of pills or a clean shot to the brain. 

So excuse me...no no, excuse you for gazing upon such greatness of power locked away come spiraling at you broken down into 26 letters arranged so that your idiot mind can comprehend. 

Excuse you for accusing me that I'm gay all because I'm laughing with friends that actually care about me while you casually slip in the little "you okay?" to create the illusion that your some higher being than my family.

No, sit down with your brethren and wash away your sins with the tears that leak from my angry brown eyes, I am your higher being and you must respect me. 

What right do you have to judge?

Haven't I shown you enough or do you still wish a lashing from the angry words I spit?

 A life time will pass before my name is hushed with our dying generation that ages everyday they step into their skin and fix their masks in the morning.

For my name Brittany isn't a subject to be taken lightly.

With a single breath whispered from my lips, I can silence a whole room.

My voice can cut with a vengeance so fierce that it will leave you gasping for air all because you had the audacity to utter my name in vain.

The revenge that I hold in my heart, held captive like a prisoner, has risen its way up my throat and through my vocal cords so you can register it in your tiny brains of dust that I am god-like.

If I am happy with the head on my shoulders and the clothes on my back that hide the naked truth, then I am God.

And until I take the stray thread of your skin and unwind you until your bones feel embarrassed by the attention of dimwits and fools, than you will never understand what its like to be in my shoes.

So if I'd rather watch the clock as it ticks away the times I've cried, who are you to judge?

If I'd rather count razors than stars in the night sky, who are you to judge?

The bile that our future generations conjure up in their stomachs will be sprayed over the walls of their deceased hopes and dreams of a perfect society with no hate or discrimination since we failed to do so.

I'd rather be subjected to a life of opening old wounds than have to deal with these people who plaster blank stares on their faces.

Here I stand, staring into the mirror.

I may not know the awkward stranger staring back but I have come to realize that isn't me. 

That person behind the one way glass of another dimension is each and every one of us hiding from some truth, am I not right?

Here I stand, try and knock me down.