Downward Spiral

Ring Around the Rosie,

I can't do this alone. I need a partner - a confidant. I know who she is, but I'm scared to take her hand, to start spinning. I cannot eat. I dare not sleep. Days pass but the dread and desire only grow. Finally, in desperation, I clasp her hand. Together we start the dance.

Pocket Full of Posie,

I know how it ends. How many others have spun this same circle before me? Chanted these same lines? And yet the euphoria will not leave. Contrary, it consumes. The world is a blur, and everything is moving so quickly. I cannot tell what is happening; I surrender to the rush of the moment. If only this feeling could be frozen.

Ashes, Ashes...

Now they know. It changes everything.

My mother's grand expectations for my life are unceremoniously cremated, the remains scattered over the depths of her own personal hell. She looks through me now, and though I am dead to her she pretends otherwise. It is a miserable act.

I see tears streak my Father's image, shattering his perfection in my mind's eye forever. I could change, I could undo everything, but this moment in time can never be rewritten. It is seared in my memories for eternity - the day I broke my father.

We All Fall Down.

My sisters join us. My family collapses around me like a fallen house of cards. All that remains of the order amidst the chaos is the memory of what once was, the hope of what could have been. Memories fade over time; hope is ethereal.

We speak with double meanings as we toss hollow words around with longing. Desire for a better future reigns supreme now, but our desires form an anarchy. Love is the magical illusion that binds us together. But we have stopped chanting the magic amongst ourselves, and we no longer dance together.



Please understand that, though this writing is very dark, it does not in any way reflect my thoughts completely. I have never doubted my decision to transition, and, so far, it has been the best decision I have ever made. This piece is merely a reflection of that one particular part of my life, and how I feel about it. But I knew it might end this way before I even took the first step out the door. I was prepared (or as well prepared as anyone can be) for whatever might transpire.

Unfortunately, nothing in life is perfect, and there will be dark times. But I believe that if we look hard enough, we can also find beauty in the darkness. That the power of darkness lies in it's mystery - the sense that you don't know what is really there. But if we become familiar with it, then that power over us is lost. I'm not suggesting that we take up residence there, but I also don't think it's healthy to avoid it completely or pretend it never happened. We should acknowledge it for what it is - relive the nightmare on our own terms. And perhaps if we do, we'll find that the terror of the moment has begun to fade, and that life has moved on despite everything we've gone through. And hopefully we'll become a stronger person for it.