an. my poems are getting really autobiographical. also, i should be writing nanowrimo. last one today.

i am not a girl.

i've come to terms with this. sort of.

i have long hair.
i like the color pink.
i am sensitive. and empathetic.
i am skinny.
i want to be skinny.
i despise sports.
i have a period.

i'll bleed in every way possible at the slightest wound.
i'll light myself on fire to keep someone warm.
i have spaces between my ribcage that i could cram planets into.
i have fingernails that could tear a person apart because i've never been allowed to touch a gun.

if you tried to tell me i am a girl, i would roll over.
i would let you walk on me. i would smile and nod along.
i would close my eyes and dream of a different reality.
i would do nothing.
(this trait is characterized as a girl's.)

in short: i am feminine; i am girlish.
i am not a girl.
i am not even close to a girl.

i am not a boy, either,
although people are less inclined to think that anyway.

sometimes, i wish i was either.
just so i knew who (what, some people would say) i am.
just so i knew who i'm supposed to be.
so i could be fit into a neat, labeled little box and tucked away.

just so i could:
not correct people. time after time after time.
not correct myself. time after time after time.
not be an inconvenience.
exist without question.
exist in safety.

i am not, so who am i?

never mind—
i know that.
but do you?