Softer now: for a body borrowed
when I think about the way things used to be, the grandiosity of it all, the power ive held,
Its not fair to say that I never enjoyed life until the moment I transitioned, but Its also unfair to say that my transness was the solve all to the worlds problems.
when I think about boyhood, I think about the things that built around me before I think about the ones I built myself. The men I grew up around, taller than life, laughs louder than boat horns and beers piling up until the end of the night.
I remember the life i had as a vhs tape, fuzzy, winding, static, blurring over parts that shouldve never reached the lens- until they did. Waiting to be noticed so I can smile politely at the camera with spaghettio stains shaping my pale lips.
Though my childhood was difficult, It wasnt without a love that was strong, and persistent. I had people around me that wanted me successful, prideful and follow in decades long traditions of what it meant to be a member of the family.
My life was shaped around these men both blood and culture, and these men fueled a drive to be that- to fit that, to fulfill that urge. Even thru my adolescence, my necessary combativeness, I was determined to be who adult men needed me to be.
It doesnt make me uncomfortable, to think about, I respect my oldself, I pat "him" on the back for what "he" got me through.
Strangely, I miss it sometimes, the new excitement of men being proud of me for fulfilling stereotypes, for reaching goal posts like the girls I would sleep with or the first beer I would have in public. I miss the laughter of boys being boys and the stupidity that I felt like I belonged.
Not long after childhood and during the beginning of my teenage years, I noticed myself, glimmering through the reflection on the water, through the bay on my dads boat, seeing a version of myself that would require escapism.
So I erased her, she petrified me, this couldnt be right, this couldnt be okay to be. I need to move on, move away from makeup, move away from hiding this, so I did.
In early adulthood, I found myself- temporarily, but I did, being every man my vhs memories brought me to be, a job, a drug problem, girls, friends, college too.
That was good, that was stable, I finally escaped the bullying that once surrounded me and reclaimed a position of self worth my parents begged me to have.
I was happy?
Yeah I was, mandhood made sense, it was powerful, I could do anything and get away with it with a smile,
"he " made life his own, losing friends, getting new ones, getting beat up beating up people back, being denied dates then denying others. taking drugs and then getting sober.
This man loved what his body became, mimicking the looks, the ideals of what was going to apply the most sex appeal, the most trustworthiness and the carelessness to fumble opportunity after opportunity.
But he was a monster for it, he broke hearts, he fucked up a lot, and he rarely apologized or gave another chance, he destroyed that body with drugs and barely. crawled out almost hitting a point of no return, but always returned
It was hard to get rid of who this man had become, I thought I held more power than he did, but the woman in me wasnt strong enough yet.
He borrowed my body so I could be softer now.