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So I'm sitting in my bunk right? I'm writing down my thoughts, just looking around my room lit by the faint moonlight. I'm paranoid. I scan my room chest feeling tight with a slight edge of anxiety,
I’m afraid of a lot of things. I’m afraid of the dark, I’m afraid of the thoughts in my head, I’m 16 and I’m still afraid of the monsters under my bed.
You know, its funny how much it bothers people to say "They" Thats okay. I understand that they could never understand. But you know what I don't understand.
shadows fading swirling pulling tugging taking me into a world that ill never control "it's dangerous" they whisper what living? is it dangerous because I'm different
Adjusting the disgusting bra on my chest, I flip ratty, old dress over my head. Glancing in the mirror, I feel so wrong.
I wanted to cry, I couldn’t breathe Through my gritted teeth I seethed What was mine, wasn’t mine Nothing was fine Nothing was fine Breasts? Hips? Soft pink lips? Lipstick stained coffee sips?
When my body doesn’t fit what my brain says i am and my heart hurts because it’s empty When the pain in my head isn’t enough and the scars on my wrists have faded
waking up brings more questions than answers. i am forced into consciousness and to a decision: who will i be today?
I always looked to the future sadly Quickly two years seemed to pass me I survived, here I am, I am happy. I talk more now, to them, my dear friends
Friends are everything I do not know who choose whom I don't want to leave
I am not a freak Just because I am different From what you expected Just because I don’t fit Your pre-determined stereotypes
This is our body, our curves, our stomach, our hair, our face. These are her curves, her hips, her chest, her regions. This is her voice, her body. No no no, this is our body, we share, don't we?
Her birth name is only half of her form. She has grown and blossomed since she was created. She is the one most know by name; the once who wears dresses, skirts and tight jeans. Her name is Athena.
They will say I am broken, They will say I am bent. Though after all they have spoken, Not a word leaves a dent. I am more than my gender,
Gray business doesn't seem to matter,
Amidst a 'naturally beautiful' movement, I cut off all of my hairSo that people could ask why.Some days, I don't know.
Growing up in a rural town, a child is planted in a foundation based on a few societal beliefs That God is the only un-defyable truth in life and societal obedience defines your worth
I felt society's idea of "normal" slipping through my fingers Like a handful of sand.
Help! I’m trapped. I’m being held inside myself, I get asked… Are you a boy? Are you a girl? What are you? Why do you dress like that? What is wrong with you?
Why am I different? Why am I shunned? Words you have said with no intent of apology I am stunned. Like a bee your words stung. I was a princess, now I feel homeless. No disrespect intended.
Every day I wake up in the wrong body The misconceptions it causes make me feel less like a miss and more like a mistake
When you saw me walk into your restaurant I doubt that th first thing you thought about was asking me what my preferred pronuns might be Instead, what I'm sure came to mind was: "Shaved underarms bu hairy legs