With Those Words

By Koomah 

WITH THOSE WORDS – (FTM) 

Once when she was little, she saw a boy in her own face. She saw him when she stared in the mirror, when she gazed deep into her eyes. She knew he was there, but she didn’t know how or why. Every time she saw him, he was always so happy. She thought he was even a more attractive person than she was. She often wondered if anyone else could see him when they looked into her eyes. She was afraid people would find her strange if she asked and they couldn’t see him, but she wondered if maybe somebody had someone else living inside their eyes too. She told her parents about this boy who was living in her. Her mother told her it was impossible. Her father said it could never happen. This confused her. She was sure he was there, she knew it! Her parents told her not to tell anyone else about it and to keep it to herself, so people wouldn’t think she was crazy. She was sad, but kept it to herself for many years.

When she was in junior high school, she kept quiet. She didn’t speak of the boy that lived inside her. She didn’t really speak at all. When she was upset, she would go into her bedroom or into the bathroom and look into the mirror. She did this so she could see the boy. He was older now, but he still had that same smile. One night, as she sat on her pink bedspread, she thought about how no one could tell her who this boy was or why he was there in her. She wanted to meet him. She wanted ask him who he was. She wanted know him. She wanted to BE him. All of a sudden, her mind went blank. Her last thought made her happy, sad, and scared all at the same time. She wanted to BE him… what did that even mean? Girls couldn’t become boys, could they? She went up to the mirror in her room and glanced briefly into her eyes. There he was staring back at her, smiling. He was always so happy. Why didn’t she ever feel that way? The thought came back to her, if I become him, I will be happy. She considered asking her parents if it was possible for a girl to become a boy… but, she remembered their response to her after she told them there was a boy living inside her. She looked back into the mirror and focused on the boy again. She told him that he only seemed to cause problems for her and to go away and leave her alone. As his image began to fade away she noticed that he was still smiling. She tried to forget about the boy.

For years she fought the urge to look into mirrors every time she passed one. She wondered if the boy was really gone. She secretly hoped he was still there and that, unlike her, he was still happy. Her problem with mirrors was becoming increasingly difficult for her. On the day she moved out of her parent’s house, she got rid of every mirror she owned and made sure there were none in her new apartment. She told herself that she HAD to forget about the idea of a boy living inside her, that it was all nothing more than a childish fantasy or a vivid dream. Her life as an adult was miserable. She didn’t have a social life. She didn’t date. She just went to work, came home, ate, and went to bed. She never smiled and was becoming increasingly more and more depressed. She saw the boy’s smiling face every night in her dreams. Soon, she began denying herself sleep. She didn’t want to be reminded of the boy. Her work began to suffer from her lack of sleep, and she was eventually fired. She couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t live like this anymore. Her whole life was a lie; she wanted nothing more than to be that boy her entire life. Instead of acknowledging it, she denied it and wasted her life being someone she hated.

She wanted to die. That’s what she planned to do. She packed all of her belongings into boxes to donate to charity before she killed herself. When they were all packed, she laid a pile of pills onto her kitchen table, and wrote a quick suicide note. She started taking the boxes to her car. The last box was large, bulky, and fairly heavy; it was all of the cd’s she ever owned. Holding onto the box, she tried to open the door with one hand. The box fell out of her arm and she fell with it. She hit the kitchen tile on all fours. The cd’s scattered everywhere and covered her entire kitchen floor. Exhausted, she began to pick up each individual cd, checked to see if it was badly scratched, and put it back into its case. She was about halfway done, when she picked up a cd; while she was checking it for scratches, she saw her reflection. She was surprised; she had never really taken the time to look at her reflection in years. She thought she looked awful. She looked like a woman; and that horrified her. Suddenly, the boy came to her mind. She couldn’t stand it. She stared deep into the reflection of her own eyes in the cd hoping to see the boy. He wasn’t there. She felt like her stomach was rising into her throat. She looked again. She began to say a prayer-like mantra over and over out loud, “Please be there. Oh please, please let him be there…” Her prayer didn’t seem to be working. She felt sick and wanted to disappear. She saw her reflection as tears began to fall down her cheeks. She kept staring at her face’s reflection, and watched it become more and more blurry because of the tears in her eyes. Suddenly she noticed something… it looked like the boy had returned. She could see him staring back at her!

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and excitedly looked into the cd. Again, she only saw her own face with a silly excited grin. She was disappointed and aggravated. She then had a strange thought and wanted to look again. One last time, she focused in on her eyes, staring through her wet eyelashes that were stuck together into points. She thought about the idea of it; it was silly but, she had nothing else to lose. She grinned at her own reflection. It was those eyes, her eyes. They looked for that moment very similar to the boy’s eyes! They looked like his eyes, but, they weren’t his. Similar just wasn’t good enough, she wanted to see him! His eyes! His smile! “I want to be that boy.” she heard herself mutter. She tried to forget about those feelings she had years ago… the feelings where she wanted to be that boy. She knew she should probably try to convince herself that she didn’t really want that… but, she knew she really did. “I want nothing more that to be that boy.” she said again. It made her smile slightly. For a moment, she saw her eyes become his eyes again. Then she understood. Was it really that easy? She stared deep into her eyes again, and she spoke, “No, I don’t want to be that boy in my eyes… I am that guy. I am a man.” This time the boy was not in any eye reflection. There was no boy; there was a man in the whole face. The reflection was the reflection of a man. It was that easy. It had always been that easy. “I am a man.” is all it took, with those simple words, the girl became a man. He became a man. He was a man, he always was. He just never knew how to make himself see it.

 

WITH THOSE WORDS – (MTF)

Once when he was little, he saw a girl in his own face. He saw her when he stared in the mirror, when he gazed deep into his eyes. He knew she was there, but he didn’t know how or why. Every time he saw her, she was always so happy. He thought she was even a more attractive person than he was. He often wondered if anyone else could see her when they looked into his eyes. He was afraid people would find him strange if he asked and they couldn’t see her, but he wondered if maybe somebody had someone else living inside their eyes too. He told his parents about this girl who was living in him. His mother told him it was impossible. His father said it could never happen. This confused him. He was sure she was there, he knew it! His parents told him not to tell anyone else about it and to keep it to himself, so people wouldn’t think he was crazy. He was sad, but kept it to himself for many years.

When he was in junior high school, he kept quiet. He didn’t speak of the girl that lived inside him. He didn’t really speak at all. When he was upset, he would go into his bedroom or into the bathroom and look into the mirror. He did this so he could see the girl. She was older now, but she still had that same smile. One night, as he sat on his blue bedspread, he thought about how no one could tell him who this girl was or why she was there in him. He wanted to meet her. He wanted ask her who she was. He wanted know her. He wanted to BE her. All of a sudden, his mind went blank. His last thought made him happy, sad, and scared all at the same time. He wanted to BE her… what did that even mean? Boys couldn’t become girls, could they? He went up to the mirror in his room and glanced briefly into his eyes. There she was staring back at him, smiling. She was always so happy. Why didn’t he ever feel that way? The thought came back to him, if I become her, I will be happy. He considered asking his parents if it was possible for a boy to become a girl… but, he remembered their response to him after he told them there was a girl living inside him. He looked back into the mirror and focused on the girl again. He told her that she only seemed to cause problems for him and to go away and leave him alone. As her image began to fade away he noticed that she was still smiling. He tried to forget about the girl.

For years he fought the urge to look into mirrors every time he passed one. He wondered if the girl was really gone. He secretly hoped she was still there and that, unlike him, she was still happy. His problem with mirrors was becoming increasingly difficult for him. On the day he moved out of his parent’s house, he got rid of every mirror he owned and made sure there were none in his new apartment. He told himself that he HAD to forget about the idea of a girl living inside him, that it was all nothing more than a childish fantasy or a vivid dream. His life as an adult was miserable. He didn’t have a social life. He didn’t date. He just went to work, came home, ate, and went to bed. He never smiled and was becoming increasingly more and more depressed. He saw the girl’s smiling face every night in his dreams. Soon, he began denying himself sleep. He didn’t want to be reminded of the girl. His work began to suffer from his lack of sleep, and he was eventually fired. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t live like this anymore. His whole life was a lie; he wanted nothing more than to be that girl his entire life. Instead of acknowledging it, he denied it and wasted his life being someone he hated.

He wanted to die. That’s what he planned to do. He packed all of his belongings into boxes to donate to charity before he killed himself. When they were all packed, he laid a pile of pills onto his kitchen table, and wrote a quick suicide note. He started taking the boxes to his car. The last box was large, bulky, and fairly heavy; it was all of the cd’s he ever owned. Holding onto the box, he tried to open the door with one hand. The box fell out of his arm and he fell with it. He hit the kitchen tile on all fours. The cd’s scattered everywhere and covered his entire kitchen floor. Exhausted, he began to pick up each individual cd, checked to see if it was badly scratched, and put it back into its case. He was about halfway done, when he picked up a cd; while he was checking it for scratches, he saw his reflection. He was surprised; he had never really taken the time to look at his reflection in years. He thought he looked awful. He looked like a man; and that horrified him. Suddenly, the girl came to his mind. He couldn’t stand it. He stared deep into the reflection of his own eyes in the cd hoping to see the girl. She wasn’t there. He felt like his stomach was rising into his throat. He looked again. He began to say a prayer-like mantra over and over out loud, “Please be there. Oh please, please let her be there…” His prayer didn’t seem to be working. He felt sick and wanted to disappear. He saw his reflection as tears began to fall down his cheeks. He kept staring at his face’s reflection, and watched it become more and more blurry because of the tears in his eyes. Suddenly he noticed something… it looked like the girl had returned. He could see her staring back at him!

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and excitedly looked into the cd. Again, he only saw his own face with a silly excited grin. He was disappointed and aggravated. He then had a strange thought and wanted to look again. One last time, he focused in on his eyes, staring through his wet eyelashes that were stuck together into points. He thought about the idea of it; it was silly but, he had nothing else to lose. He grinned at his own reflection. It was those eyes, his eyes. They looked for that moment very similar to the girl’s eyes! They looked like her eyes, but, they weren’t hers. Similar just wasn’t good enough, he wanted to see her! Her eyes! Her smile! “I want to be that girl.” he heard himself mutter. He tried to forget about those feelings he had years ago… the feelings where he wanted to be that girl. He knew he should probably try to convince himself that he didn’t really want that… but, he knew he really did. “I want nothing more that to be that girl.” he said again. It made him smile slightly. For a moment, he saw his eyes become her eyes again. Then he understood. Was it really that easy? He stared deep into his eyes again, and he spoke, “No, I don’t want to be that girl in my eyes… I am that lady. I am a woman.” This time the girl was not in any eye reflection. There was no girl; there was a woman in the whole face. The reflection was the reflection of a woman. It was that easy. It had always been that easy. “I am a woman.” is all it took, with those simple words, the boy became a woman. She became a woman. She was a woman, she always was. She just never knew how to make herself see it.

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Bio: Koomah is what would happen if Eddie Izzard and Margaret Cho had a baby: Koomah is an intersex-bodied, genderqueer, trans-human artist, performance artist, filmmaker, writer, and educator in Houston, Texas. Koomah uses art, performance, and prose to highlight issues of gender and sexuality as well as transgender, genderqueer, and intersex issues and identities. Koomah doesn’t have a pronoun preference. Koomah is known for their unique clothing designs and antennae hairstyle. Most importantly, Koomah is happy. Send Koomah some sentences via: ContactKoomah@gmail.com