I don’t want to be an act of revolution

Or a sceptical

Or a learning opportunity.

I want to be a boy.

And I want to live.

I think my biggest flaw is irrelevancy.

I make myself relevant, I force myself into people's lives, even if it's for the worse long term because short term happiness is more palpable. And by that same logic, there is little meaning if I'm irrelevant. I need to mean something to people, sometimes a bad something is more relevant than a good something.

This being said, right now, being irrelevant would be a lot less tiresome.

My mind is profound. It is great. It is too great for my mortal flesh. 

I feel my soul bursting from my arms, from my chest, from my heart and from my veins. 

I feel small. Like my mind is a fleck of dust controlling a galaxy. 

Nothing makes sense, so everything is profound. 

My thoughts are bigger than my body. 

But my heart rattles around the cage I locked it in.

knowing me

They love me, 

but love is so shallow. 

You know me, 

in my flaws and my perfection. 

My fears are real. My passion is real. My interests are vast. My stories are captivating. 

Love could tell you the colour of my bedroom walls, 

but knowing tells you the colours of my soul.

Equilibrium

To feel is to be alive.

But when I feel too much? That is no way of living.

But when I feel too little? What is the point of living.

That is all too much, so I become less.

Create space.

When there is space, I can become more.

I think imbalance is to be alive.

I think a lot.

I think a lot, and I think our souls are tied. 

I think we were binary stars, circling each other for eternity, giving out the same light. 

I think we're swans mating for life, dying without the other. 

I think we’re a butterfly and a flower, different life forms but essential for each other. 

I think we’re a magpie and a pigeon, an unlikely pair. 

I think we’re Ultraviolet and Finch. 

I think we’re two rocks watching a sunset. 

I know we’re soulmates. 

And, I know you.

The girl he was.

People still see her. 

But the face they smile at belongs to someone new. They ask how she's been and he’ll lie. Because she’s just a kid who doesn’t occupy a body anymore. 

The eyes that crinkle in an awkward smile belong to a sweet boy who’s heart breaks when you mention her name.

It’s a name he still responds to.

He always will, because he can’t ignore the girl he was.

My body is lying.

I've never felt that my body isn't my own - physically. It is mine.

I've grown it, I've used it, and I've loved it. But never the way it's intended. 

I am tall. I am thin. I am male. 

None of these things are true. Yet, every body I occupy outside of my own are all of those things. 

Except my flesh lies.

 I am short, chubby and my body is my mothers. And every woman before me. 

But my mind is my fathers, and his fathers before him. 

There are few words to describe being in the wrong body, but the best way I can find is just to call it mine.