An anonymous student shares his feelings of being trans* through this heartfelt poem

So when will I be old enough?
For tomorrow, if by the end of my life I am lucky
I will have lived a quarter of it
And I only have 3 left to live
Isn’t life already full of regrets and sadness
Or do you think this will be another
But sometimes hell is better than purgatory
Better than knowing that there’s something I could do
If only I weren’t so young and na├»ve
If I was born old and aged backwards
I wonder what knowledge I would tell myself
For this is not what I planned
When following your heart only causes pain
And ignoring it is not a better solution
And this time there is no middle ground
And maybe if I am not so lucky
This is nearly all of my life alive
For if I die tomorrow I will never get any older
And I have yet to live, not really.

So when am I am adult?
For the laws that are written
State I can die for my country, marry
Even bring new life into this unforgiving family
Yet these are not the laws I was raised by
Not the rules of the finite prison I used to call my home
And here I will always be a baby
No matter how many years I have
Or experiences
For you will always be older than me
Wiser, more experienced
Always be right
And what I want doesn’t matter
And never will
And I will always be a juvenile
For I never had a childhood, not really.

So is it really hormones?
When that photo of a toddler in frills
And frowns and tear stained cheeks
With days late to school
When the summer monstrosity mysteriously disappeared
The flushed cheeks and clenched fists
In protests over the glittery outfit
With no material between the legs
Memories that I don’t even own
Because I was just too young to remember
Or I wanted to forget
And these stories that you’ve told me
And photos of this stranger are all I know
Years before hormones could dictate me
Years before I knew I was even different from the rest
But sometimes you don’t want to remember either
Because you need to explain me in a way that suits you
Although it is not your life to live
But I have never lived it either, not really.

So am I really just confused?
When I know exactly who I am I see you in trousers
And you singing to boy bands
And otherwise defying your stereotypes
So why can I not defy mine
Why must I be the only one to stick to the rules
You tell me what I like and who I love
As though you see the world through my eyes
But I know you are wrong
Your views are not mine, not anymore
Although your shame is infectious
And I hate myself like you hate me too
Because I can not live up to what is expected
Or follow those rules society made me
But any life lived by boxes Is not a life lived, not really.

So when will you believe me?
There are no scars visible but do you need to see
They rest on my heart, etched in to my brain
And when the sun sets and darkness falls I feel them inside of me
You can’t know how I feel, not like you say
Or you can’t love me
Because why do you make me endure this torture
The world is not the perfect sphere I once thought
And you are no longer the great protectors
Who scared away the demons of my mind
Now I realise just how alone we all are
Fighting for the right to be ourselves whilst everyone else protests
And the only way out is one I’ve been taught to fear
And all that would be left is an uttered name that’s not even mine
But to die you must live
And I have not lived, not really.

So when will this stop being a phase?
On the day I draw my last breath,
Is that when you come to me holding the key to my life
Whilst I am sat here surrounded by four white walls with no pictures to show
Wrapped in that same pink blanket they put me in after my birth
And with this new found freedom I weep
For the life I never lived
And the stories that should have been mine
As the world waits for me behind that locked door
But I lack the strength to open it I always lacked the strength to open it
As I struggle for air, suffocated by loneliness
For I could never have loved another as I could not love myself
And I weep for my children who were never born
And the lover I never met I weep for the life I never had
Because I never lived, not really.