i have a ton of thoughts.
last night instead of sleeping, i unsuccesfully held back a barrage of tears while lying next to noah and thoughts flooded my mind of how ugly i am and how wrong i am and why am i like this? how could i ever know if im really nonbinary?? trans enough?? too trans?? and i will never look like a cis person, my body will fit into the public flow of humans, almost good or perfect or beautiful but always slightly off. and that to me was really vile and rotten and turned my stomach like milk. why cant i be normal and good and perfect and beautiful?? my body will never be reflected on a screen as anything but an oddity. my body will never be reflected in a mirror as anything but an oddity. my body will never be reflected in a lovers eyes as anything more than vile.
and that bums me out.
so i snuck off to the restroom and i stared myslef in my own eyes and i lifted off noahs tie dye shirt and touched my stomach and my shoulders and my chest and forced the words through my lips
"my body is good and perfect and beautiful because i am good an perfect and beautiful. i will never be anything less."
and i layed down on the couch and cried until i fell asleep.
gender is really confusing to me, like shoe shopping was when i was little. i had no grasp on what size i could squeeze my toes into while everyone seemed to handle it wih ease and i would just sit on the ground while i attempted to grind my feet into several pairs of ill fitting shoes until i would give up and lie and say i liked a pair. but even if they were uncomfortable, they could still have stickers and lights and that was exciting and cool! so it wouldnt bother me how uncomfortable the shoes physically felt, the lights made me feel like a twinkling night sky so it was fine.
now i shove my body into things like dresses or shear my hair for the weather. and i know this is a size four and thats a size six and im a ball of gas that doesnt have an earthly size and everything feels like shoving, shoving and i feel trapped but at least there are sharks on my socks like the endless and temperamental seas inside my chest and the cardboard leaves in my hair echo the forest stretching through my arms and my need for others and that need being okay.
i feel physically trapped when i am called sir on the bus but the stars in my eyes go on as far as the universe and i know i cant be contained.
and my body is a good and perfect and beautiful container for my soul.