Every girl like me I know feels like she was born with an expiration date,
like thereβs a number stamped on her forehead that says β26 years oldβ
that says βsix months after the money runs outβ
that says βwhen you canβt do this anymoreβ
that says βas soon as you work up the courage,β
and Iβm one of the lucky ones, because that scares me,
Sometimes I think I have an immigrantβs patriotism for this world,
because it took me 20 years to decide that I wanted to live in it.
Maybe thatβs what hope is.
But I donβt know how to say that the greatest poet I know and her girlfriend,
who looks so like me she nearly made my mom faint when she opened the door,
are probably not going to last another year.
So everybody told me to vote for Bernie Sanders.
Itβs not enough.
Now people are saying this might be the end times,
but I want to remind them that we have already been living in them,
for as long as I can remember,
and I donβt know why itβs so hard to keep in contact with someone I donβt see,
to reach out across that burden of distance with the uncertain arms of exhaustion,
but I know why itβs hard to reassure somebody,
when all you can say is βIβm scared, too.β
How much money do you give somebody,
when money is the thing you donβt have?
For time, same question.
A trans woman I had never met came into my shop one day and pointed me out to her friend,
she said βyou are my sister,β
and I said βyes, I am.β
So when I saw one of my sisters out on the street with a slice of cardboard, I brought her
a bottle of water and all the cash I had in my wallet,
because afterward I couldnβt stop crying for six hours,
and I donβt think anybody asked me why.
Maybe this is why there are so few things that feel important to me anymore.
I said βthe only things people like me make are cries for helpβ and I got
128 reblogs.
Apparently, some people find that relatable.
A lot of people have told me that Iβm the most optimistic person they know,
and I donβt tell them that I have to be,
I take it as a compliment.
The thing they donβt tell you about hope is that itβs cyclical,
it needs to be refreshed every single day,
Hope is just like every other kind of work you do on your body.
So what does a story mean, to that?
What can a poem mean, to that?
I abhor maintenance.
I donβt want to have to say anything anymore,
I want to walk to the place where all my words are done,
And build a home there.
Itβs not enough.
All your pleas and all your promises, your fights and feats and failures, are not and never will be enough.
Not for us.
This world was not made for us.
So letβs build a better one.
Letβs start right here, right now, just us, not with a kiss or a fist but just
you and me
pledging to not let go
no matter what comes, deciding
even when the love is gone
that weβre not gonna let each other drown anymore.
So I want to offer my hand,
to every girl like me who needs it,
and walk with you into a place beyond these empires,
a place that doesnβt exist yet.
And that,
I hope,
is enough.
Because thatβsβ¦everything.
romaincrisis
snowghoul
theartofmadeline
pixelskylines
2087
