i eat a mango at work in the middle of a snowstorm. i don't garden. i shop at kroger. i say no every time my mother asks me to sing. i forget birthdays. i point my finger, spin around, and always face a mirror. i make fists. i barter each day. i have seven names but didn’t choose one. i identify as none. i’m fragile and my porcelain cracks. i throw myself against walls. i(‘m a) contradict(ion). too proud, too sure, too right, too complicit. my refusal is loud and physical, and i still don’t believe it myself. i hide in the cars of high-speed trains and get by but never get off. i learn how things are, how things have been, and play in the rain. i take off my socks and shoes and stick my face in a puddle. i keep it there. i used to laugh at so many things. i say i won’t kill you, i won’t kill me. friend, i won’t kill you, so go to sleep. i buy a new bed. i doesn’t make sense. i snoop through your room and find that double-sided dong. “is it under this rock?” “nope, but better luck.”
About the Creator
kp
I am a non-binary, trans-masc writer. I work to dismantle internalized structures of oppression, such as the gender binary, class, and race. My writing is personal but anecdotally points to a larger political picture of systemic injustice.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments (1)
You're so good. I don't even really have words for this, it's excellent and emotional and removed. The voice here is so unique (as are all your pieces)