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Nudity

This poem talks about very sensitive subjects and could be triggering for some. Take care of yourselves.

Trigger Warnings // Gender Dysphoria & Depression

Nudity comforts me.
Not something that is average for someone like me.
Gender dysphoria and depression sends your self-esteem into recession.
My body causing me more oppression than my environment.
The sentiment that I self harm more than my reality could ever harm me.
The social construct that I must exist one way verse another.
That my reality is nothing more than a faze I'll grow out of.
As if my imaginary friend is my true self and what you see is only what my fear will let you.

When I say, Nudity comforts me, it will confuse you.
Many people in the world believe you must be in constant agony in order to be trans.
That you resent your body 60/60/24/7/365.
To many, there are truly no happy times.
Those people I feel for.
I haven't felt your pain so I won't act like I do.
Yet the justification that you need constant dysphoria to be trans...simply isn't true.
I still have things I can't bare.
Like looking into a mirror, being touched, or the occasional shower.
But my body is the pinnacle of towers, the opus of an art work I take the pleasure of being in.

The comfort only comes when alone.
And when I say alone, I mean it with people that relate.
The sub-genre of society that can be alone while together and bond when no one else wants to.

The question is "How?"
My life is a fictional autobiography, one that is falsely depicted by many.
I see myself as the main character.
With the book unfinished, ample changes can be made.
My true view of self is wrapped together in twine.
Redeveloped and redesigned.
What I see isn't what I know.
My body has more than show.

In the comfort of my solitary I emerge with solidarity.
I take comfort in my nudity with the mental image of my unity.
Surrounded in the continuity, I wasn't born the true me.