This is a letter for my birth mother who I wasn’t good enough for,
This is a letter for my brother, who I haven’t talked to in years, but I can feel his loneliness seep into my dreams from a thousand miles away. I can feel his fear underneath my skin and I wish I could hold his hand and let him know he is not alone, that it still hurts me too.
I replaced love with mistrust and loneliness and it settled into the palms of my hands and the bottom of my spine while I tried to find sleep.
I am trying to be the son you would’ve wanted instead of the daughter you gave up for a comfortable high. I’m worried you knew from birth that I was different. That I wouldn’t fit in at school, that I wouldn’t understand the girls even though I was supposed to be one, that I would be empty and unreal and insignificant, that I wouldn’t like being who you made me as.
I want you to love me. I still do. I have no idea who you are but I want you to be proud of me for trying to find myself against everyone who says I can’t be who I want to. That I can’t be masculine if I was born with the breasts that “real men” are supposed to be attracted to.
You didnt want me as a daughter, why would you want a son covered in pen ink and scars and memories of you that you can’t even live up to.
I still wear makeup like you taught me to, I still like the color pink, and the way the ocean sounds in a windstorm as it crashes against the rocks. I still like the sound high heels make against a cold tile floor. I still like ihop pancakes and hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. I’m still the same kid you never wanted, I just didn’t grow up the way you imagined me to. Or the way I imagined you wanted me to. I’m sorry I don’t braid my hair with dreams of my future like I used to.
I’m scared of failing you even though I know that I already have a thousand times over and it will always hurt. I’ll always want to know why i couldn’t make you happy, who I couldn’t make you love me back, I must have let you down, you must have seen the devil in me when I cried out for you at night because you’re not here, I am lost, and I don’t know who I am anymore anyways.
I wake up in the middle of the night with cobwebs in my veins and imagine what I would’ve been like if you never left, if he never left, if she never left, if i still had any piece of hope left. Would I still be the same of would my pain fade away as you told me you loved me before I fell asleep each night? Would I still not want to wake up the next morning?
And those mornings are the hardest ones, but the nights that come before are worse because I pray to a god who hates me for sins I never chose while staring at the stars above. I pray for forgiveness
I pray to be born correctly
I pray for you to say something to me but I’m pounding on steel doors and screaming nonsense at the top of my lungs but you haven’t said a word.
I want you in my life
I never wanted you to leave in the first place. I want to tell you my story, I want to tell you my dreams, I want to tell you how his hand feels against mine when I can’t breathe at night, I want to tell you how I think I’m a boy and how I can’t find friends who get it. How I can’t get to sleep and I can’t wake up in the morning because I don’t believe I am worth it. Because you never believed I would be worth it.
Teach me to love myself more than you ever did,
teach me to believe in myself more than anyone could believe in a loveless god,
teach me to find myself again because I’m lost in the seas of voices of people who say I am not who I am,
I need you to tell me that,
I need you to tell me what I want to hear,
I am who I am and that is okay,
I am who I love and that is okay,
I’m not who I was and that is okay,
tell me you love me,
tell me you always have,
because I’m not sure I know how to do it myself