To every suicidal trans kid, I am here for you.
We exist in a world not made for us, called 'freaks', called 'deceptive', called 'kill yourself'
We dont understand what we did wrong, we hide in closets, no, coffins and hope to god, or something, that we will be able to escape this wooden prison one day.
But its not safe out there.
Theres so much soil weighing us down and every time we move a new splinter enters our body somehow.
We exist on a cliff, not holding onto enough for all of us to survive. One in three transgender people will try and commit suicide by the age of twenty.
Our average life expectancy is about twenty-three to thirty and quickly reducing.
I know not to blame myself, if you are over the edge tomorrow.
If youre jumping or falling, its not my fault.
But if I can wrap my arms around your waist and hold you up, instead of letting you fall and tumble down the steep hill, onlt to land, and turn to crumbled stone and shredded ribbonon the pavement today, that will be enough for me.
If I could steal all of your blades and replace them with a rose, Id be a happy boy. But that is until you find another way to steal red.
Wrestle with the gruesome fact that our world doesnt care until we are gone. Until our name is on the news headline. If we ever get that far that is.
But dear friend, please, listen to the soft hum of your heart still beating, and remember the complexity and originality of your existence.
Every cell dividing
Every organ working in harmony to keep you alive.
Remember that your spine is as strong as a spiders silken web.
Your hands are graceful and careful even when you are shattering glass.
Your body is a form, just a form.
Clumsy and inexpertly designed.
But think of the shapes it makes.
The arcs and curves when you move. The way it crumples up and folds like paper when you are tired, prone or empty.
Think of the shapes it makes at rest and on your very command.
Its not easy letting yourself live in this body. And for some of us its nearly impossible.
But you will survive in this body.
So to those who designed our bodies, our identities misplaced.
Eat.
Chew your words carefully like communion crackers, holy and meaningless and flamable, meant to be drowned in wine.
We will swallow our fears because overcoming nature is meant to hurt for a little bit.
Drink nerves like vodka, like whiskey, fast and thoughtless.
It'll always be a bit hard holding down the liquid courage.
Take the pain in and crush it between your well earned and hard working teeth. Pull it into yourself because...
It can't hurt you if you own it.
