my naked truth.

you see scars on my wrists covered by rainbow threads and think:
statistic.

you think someday i will be found face down in my dorm room.

but I am stronger than a percentage.
i am a mighty oak.
my roots dig deep into this nutrient rich soil,
my family surrounding my solid foundation.

my strongly built trunk is scarred and tattered.
every mark tells a story of trauma.
and of healing.
every ring counts another year of my life.

these branches reach out to spaces yet to be discovered.
yet to be touched.

my growth is altered.
but constant.
shaped by both wind and will.
storm and strength.
both external.
and internal.
but i stand tall.

want to know my truth?
the truth that resides in this trunk?

my scars are from family fights.
and being told that i'm wrong.
that my whole being is wrong.

feelings for a girl in the third grade?
those are chosen. and unnatural.

they're from hating my breasts.
and my hips.
and wanting nothing more than that train set my brother got for christmas.

my scars are from words.
words spoken by those who "love thy neighbor as thyself."
so why was i their exception?

my scars.. are from me.
but so is my healing.

here's the thing about healing.
it begins at the moment of injury.
and can take days, months or even years.
but there will always be a scar.
altered skin.
never to be the same.

just as my skin had to renew.
regrow.
so has my soul.

i have grown the courage to own my truth.
to define myself.

the courage to say, i am neither male nor female.
i am both.
i am neither.

i am a child. not a daughter.
a sibling. not a sister.
i am a lover. partner. significant other.
not a girlfriend.

you see.. my gender.
it's between my ears.
not between my legs.

and this brain.
it's ever changing.
ever growing.