I Have a Gun to Society’s Head and these are my Demands
I want to have a dresser full of dicks and vaginas and breasts. I want to live in a world where I can decide at 8am on a Tuesday if I want to be a man or a woman or nothing at all. Where I wouldn’t need bottles of Testosterone to be “created into” a man. I wouldn’t need Triple D breasts to let the women’s bathroom know I am a woman. You will no longer see me as a man or a woman that identifies as genderless. My own gender will not be decided and shoved down my throat.
I am a writer who cannot write. My soul craves a final draft on the first try, and anything else can never seem to be worth the time, because a rewrite is a stab to my throat. How dare I bring those words to life instead of perfection. I shake in fear as my mind has thousands of stories that it wants its writer body to create, but they can never leave that fantasy land. I weep for the lives that have been forgotten for those that never got a life. Simply because I am a writer who cannot write.
