Photo by Mohamed Rasik via depositphotos

Half Fish

On struggling with gender dysmorphia

‘You are not a boy’ 
No, but I’ll be twice the man any father was 
I screamed, crying, hysterical, looking at that hated image in the mirror 
I looked in the mirror and I wanted the old me back, a refracted vision of the past.

looking someone in the eye, face to face, is like looking at yourself. 
first to look away loses. 
don’t lose to yourself.
how can you avoid your own gaze?
don’t lose to yourself.

But the cracks made it hard. 
I felt the wind on one side of my face. I felt like a mountain. One side shielded. One side exposed.
Half strong. Half king. Half arsed. Half fish.  
A liege in a burrowed castle, sitting upon a throne stamped with 

‘BE PREPARED TO OFFER THIS SEAT.’ 

Can’t sit. Can’t leave. Can’t stand. Can’t stay. 
Mind stamped, trampled. 
Stumbling, never quite left nor right, never quite up nor down. 
‘A leopard cannot change its spots’. But I never claimed to conquer Kilimanjaro, 
(I’d like to)

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