The birdhouse outside my window is swinging, swinging, and I feel awful--I keep forgetting to fill the feeder with food; I miss the sounds of their beaks and feathers and little clawed feet tapping at my window, sometimes they'd just sit there and let me look at them, sometimes they were my friends. I hope they found somewhere else to eat, I hope they come back when I finally fill it up.

And flashbacks to back when we talked! I still have false confidence in my charms to this day, but I think now that maybe you were just bored and I was just there (it's the classic relationship of the teenage years). Oh well, I'd rather believe I'm dashing. 

I've got a girly name, girly voice when I get excited, and even though I shove my hands into my pockets and hunch my shoulders forward, I can't hide my chest. I haven't shaved my legs in a while, to be honest. You can think what you want of that, I don't care. And I haven't worn a dress in longer. I just don't want to be stuck with "female," even on the days when it would be alright. Maybe if I try hard enough, I'll fool them; maybe I'll be handsome. (Unlike the pants and genderless clothing, the leg hair isn't necessarily for sake of my manliness; I just give zero fucks. And I'm lazy.) 

I don't think of my wedding day, ever. I just want someone to sleep with, mostly in the innocent sense of the phrase. I just want someone around. I don't care about dresses and flowers, I don't care about grooms. Even when I was little, I never saw myself in white. (Maybe in a tux.) This isn't sad, why do people act like this is sad? I don't much like weddings.

... I should fill the bird-feeder. 

important and relevant and intelligent.

she says to keep it down.

Can you manage yourself? It's a fact of life that I'm queer, you've known for about a year that this was going to be something you'd have to deal with eventually. I'd really like to just be OUT. To everyone. In one fell facebook swoop just. End all this nonsense. But I have to worry about your feelings, you need more time, this is all new to you.

If people don't like me, oh well.

If they don't like you? Well this isn't about you, now, is it?

Stop making it about you. STOP. 

i changed a lot.

In all those movies, you've got all those straight couples

and all those straight people cheering for them in the seats.

I said it was okay for you to be uncomfortable with queer kisses,

but I think I might've lied.

People ask us why we need to wear it on our sleeves,

why we need parades or days dedicated to us,

while their beer commercials and R-rated films

proudly scream their hetero-sexuality.

If I'm relying on your vote 

to allow me my civil rights...

No, no I will not shut up about it.

hangman.

There's a little man of pipe-cleaners in my closet, neck wrapped with a little noose of silver string.

On the bad days I drop him off the shelf and let him dangle.
On the better ones, I pick him up and set him on the ledge.

How morbid.

the nice people vs the best people.

It's just that I could listen to you talk forever, I could sit in silence with you forever...

The words they  say on repeat, repeat, offer never a new thought, never an adjusted view, the same stories, the same beliefs, same, again and again and again. Never bare feet. Never laughing. Never adventure. Never true. "That's cool, that's nice, that's great, that sucks." GENERIC. No advice, not even an engaging comment. And then they talk forever, a million words a minute! Always on repeat. The silence is only ever awkward.

I guess that's how things work, though. There are some we'll like more than others.

And I suppose normally it's just nice to have anyone around.

But right now, right here, I don't want them.

I don't like being lied to.
I don't like it.

I don't like to feel stupid.
And being played makes me feel stupid.

If in the end, I'll be the fool,
I'd rather begin not trusting you now.