This Body isn’t Mine.

by Your_Local_Transguy

Summary:

This isn’t what I usually post but it was an idea that came to mind.

I was born a girl,

a rebellious one at that,

I wore t-shirts and trousers,

and hated the stereotypes I had to fit in to.

 

Growing up,

I put myself at risk,

I was called weird and ungrateful

for wanting to be a brother rather than a sis.

 

They berated me for being out of the ordinary,

for being different.

They hated me for being strange,

for being myself.

 

They pushed me back,

back into the wall,

back into the closet,

back into hiding who I really was.

 

I suppressed my feelings,

I ignored the burning feelings of self-hatred at my body,

I disregarded the pain in my gut when my chest grew larger,

I did anything and everything to hide it all.

 

I desperately yearned for a label,

for closure and clarification.

I called myself a tomboy,

just to feel like I wasn’t wrong.

 

I was, in fact, not a tomboy,

the tag didn’t feel right,

the feelings still pooled in my gut,

every time I looked at myself in the mirror.

 

I knew from the beginning that I wasn’t a girl,

I knew that I wasn’t normal,

so I hid.

 

I grew up hiding.

 

My chest was too big,

hips too curvy,

voice too high,

clothes too tight.

 

Notes:

I'm procrastinating and stressed so I haven't been able too write much, sorry.