I am ???

PLAY TRACK: NO MORE DISGUISE

   I am not a girl. I am a weird tangle of things. I do not really know where I fall in the world when it comes to self expression, and I would rather repress myself like a dog with a choking collar, feeling my breath get cut short and the oxygen fading from my mind so as not to think of anything at all.

    From a young age, I knew there was something wrong with me. I knew I could never be held as if I were delicate or nurtured. Naturally, you do not really understand what it means to be a “girl” or to be a “boy.” I mean, is there really a “to be”? To me, these are just social constructs we as people create to further divide ourselves. A girl must do this while a boy must do that. I was not allowed to exist as a human being because everyone was too preoccupied with what assigned gender we should be molding ourselves into. I must be small. I must be pretty. I must be gentle. I must be seductive. I must be enchanting. I must be fit for you, a boy who does not know what that means to him, who does not know what it means to be a man, yet he is told that soon enough he will be, and he must find a girl, a sweet one, or else this talk would have all been for nothing. Sweet like the candy your mother gifted you and as soft as the sheets you lay on every night. That is what I am supposed to be.

    But I am not soft. I am not sweet. I am not pretty or seductive, let alone enchanting. I have rough edges, and I can be cruel and mean. My ignorance is my bliss, and I will act as if I am not hearing you at all, but I have ingested every single word, swallowing it back deep like the loads you, as a man, will pour deep down my throat to satiate your “male” desires. The more and more I type about this, I cannot help but feel myself grow irritated. It is a redundant conversation topic, and no matter how you glance at it, you are left with the same unfulfilled consciousness. I am sick of the face that follows me no matter how hard I try to look away. The mirror mocks me when I attempt to stare into its eyes, so foul and unaware of the discomfort it is causing me. But still I smile, and without a moment’s hesitation it smiles back at me.

Are you a girl or a boy?

    I am just the desires of the human heart, the understanding of all that is holy, and the mechanism of the machine. Nothing less. Only more, so, so, so much more.

Commitment and Love

PLAY TRACK: BELTWAY SOLANGE

     I had a conversation not too long ago with a friend who had recently put themselves in a committed relationship. Throughout the conversation, they kept repeating the same phrase, “Well, now I am in a committed relationship,” as if this was the anchor of it all. The one thing that needed to be planted down despite everything else being a little lackluster at times. Although it is not my place to say whether something is or isn’t meaningful, truly that isn’t the case here. Rather, it opened my mind to a whole new array of thoughts. Why commit? Why do we need to commit to something we know isn’t offering us the highest of what we deserve? 

    And I must add, this conversation was brought up in a different form with another person, in which they told me, in their own words, “The ones that lack in certain areas are the ones that end up being the best partners.” They meant this in reference to looks, but I couldn’t help but feel a little taken aback. To say that a lack of something means more of another thing makes no sense to me. And looks aside, this idea is applied to actions too. Why should anyone feel okay with less than in order to avoid having nothing at all?

    Should I be content with a person who doesn’t feel me or notice me because they buy me a slice of cake when I’m sad? Or should I feel okay with someone who can touch me but can’t hear me? I simply cannot and will not accept a life where things that lack should be my norm. My standards aren’t high. I just know what I want, and if someone can be that anchor for me, believe me, I am giving tenfold in return.

    It’s a common misconception that I am uncommitted. Quite on the contrary, I feel that once I find a place for myself, I will not leave. I will sink my nails deep, ensuring that my mark never fades. I think it’s even a little selfish of me to say that my devotion to a person surpasses most. I just don’t show it often enough for people to see it as real, but it’s there. Or better yet, I keep being told that I am running away from the things I should be having or needing in my life, that I am just afraid of it.

    But truth be told, I do not fear commitment itself. I fear being known long enough for someone to realize the things they idealized about me or the potential they were betting on coming to fruition will never happen. That the parts of me I struggle with are not temporary issues. No amount of time will erase these parts of myself, and it’s a reality I’ve long accepted. But how can I trust someone else to understand that?

    I am more scared of them staying long enough to see me clearly. A new term I learned fits this well, their proximity to me would be far too close. They would sit down and see it is not a phase, but something that persists. My uncertainty will never fade away because I know I will question whether I even want them to be in my life long enough to find the answer. I don’t trust myself to be the same person someone falls in love with. I am not even the same person I was yesterday. I do not know myself enough to allow someone else to know me. I never know which part of myself to present.

    I am unnerving, and I know this to be true. I’ve always hated disappointing people, even accidentally, so I would rather take control and do it with intention. Of course, it was never to cause harm, but rather because I feel safer doing it on my own terms than having someone feel their expectations of me were left unmet.

    I don’t even mean to be this way, but I seem to like myself best when uncertainty freezes me into place, misery fills my lungs, and no one’s expectations can catch up to me.