It’s in my head.
It’s in my head.
It’s in my head.
Clawing, eating away.
Like some voice I can’t escape.
And it’s really funny, those expectations.
An uncomfortable weight.
Because this is supposed to be a “safe” place.
But what’s so safe about it?
There is still the pressure of other’s gazes.
Judgement.
“Why is this so hard for you?”
Was it supposed to be easy?
A poisoned mind given a half-assed antidote.
“My body is a temple.” That’s what they say no?
But it’s often objectified. Sexualized. You are your appearance.
“Weight” can be so metaphorical, yet so literal. People take one look at you and decide everything about you.
Is it any wonder I starve myself? To fit the perfect figure?
It’s why I left womanhood behind a long time ago. To escape those that seek to confine me.
But the thing is, I believe in rebellion.
I believe in truth.
And it’s a lie to say I always feel like a man.
But being a girl, a woman – has only brought me pain and misery.
But how can I look a young girl in the eye and tell her it’s all worth it? That she’ll make it somehow?
If I can’t even say that to myself.
This “weight” I carry – trauma, PTSD, an ED – they’re the cost of having a body that no one believed was truly mine.
“You’re fat.”
“Why do you eat so much?”
Growing up was a sin I committed unknowingly.
The stares, the leers – always increasing.
But I give them a different reason to look now.
The scars, then the tattoos.
A half-colored tapestry.
But now, the censorship.
“You look unprofessional.”
“You look intimidating and scary.”
I gave up conventional beauty only to be told now I’m unfit for eyes to see.
But there’s a certain power in that. To know your existence is a curse to some.
A reminder that not everything will always be peaceful.
To live on the fringes with no one to stop you.
Sure, people complain or show their disapproval.
But they can’t stop me.
They can’t stop you.
And so I will continue to defy, defy, defy.
And society will say my name like a ghost come back to haunt them.
And I will continue to rupture and disrupt. Push the limits.
As an example.
That when you push someone too far, your world will implode.
And from the dust – from the ash.
A new type of being will arise.
Inhuman/intangible to some.
But a shelter to those seeking refuge.
Feel free to leave your thoughts or feelings (kindly)