It’s not about the body. Or its’ parts.

It’s not about the fear.

It’s not about pain.

It’s about having to wake up every single morning and coax myself that it’s alright and keep myself from ending it all even though I’m quite blessed to be alive in the first place. I’m trapped. There’s no way around that. I’m not queer. I’m not broken or somehow damaged. I’m sure I have some perfectly likable traits and hopefully I will be able to see whatever it is everyone else sees in me.

But for now, I’m drowning.