From the inbox #1096

“I wrote this poem a little after I first came out and I wanted to share it and hopefully connect with some. I tried to read some poems online and just couldn’t find any that spoke to me, so I thought maybe if I wrote one and shared it, I might be able to speak to others who feel the same.

“Who I Am

Why does everyone seem to know myself more than me?
Am I truly that blind that I cannot see?
“You’re just too young,” is what they say,
“You’ll like sex soon. You will someday.”

I’ve lived my life in pure nervous silence,
so much that my fear is mistaken for shyness.
Those that do know treat me as a joke.
I can’t take it anymore; I’m starting to choke.

I want to accept that I’m supposed to be this way.
I want to feel comfortable when I wake everyday.
But how can I smile? How can I achieve
A sense of completeness when no one believes.

They say I’m confused; That I’m too young to know.
“I’m not different, I’m just a little slow.”
“You’re just a late bloomer,” they explain as they say,
“You’re just modest and that’s okay.”

But I know better than these foolish few.
I know myself. I swear I do.
I’m not confused; I’m not naive;
I’m not too ignorant to conceive

That maybe I’m different. Maybe I’m special.
I feel this uniqueness run through every blood vessel.
So, here I stand, confident and alone.
Even though I do things society won’t condone.

I sit alone quietly, enjoying my company.
I hide in my thoughts, just smiling humbly.
Because I understand, I know that it’s true.
There’s not something wrong. I’m not missing a screw.

I’m not broken. I know that I’m strong.
I know in my heart that I really belong.
I’m not just asexual, I’m not just a woman.
All that really matters…

Is that I am human.””

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