memoirofaqueertransient

[memoirofaqueertransient]

Translation for the previous post.

I ventured out looking for love. I am just a delicate little branch on a family tree. My father upset his son is becoming a daughter. My mother up in arms trying to console her husband and prioritize his sadness. Nature didn’t give the childhood, she should’ve had. In her soul her childhood feels incomplete and the days empty. Hatred and even with being a biological son made to feel unwanted and unofficial part of the family is a lesson rooted in every moment. “What will people say” words that become a continuous study ingrained into the mind. Walk through lives shifting between two faces to tolerate life. One for friends and strangers, and one to procure a little joy for the self. I didn’t find love. I found a little compassion from some. The delicate branch is broken. Society’s rape of her individuality finally won.

[memoirofaqueertransient]

Mohabbat dhoondnay chali thi mein.

Ek Khandaani darakhth pay kali thi mein.

Baap ko beta say beti honay ka gham.

Maa ko apne khawand kay gham ka sangam.

Kudrat nay bachpan diya, jo laga adhoora.

Rooh hi rooh mein har ek din bhi na lagay poora.

Nafrat aur jayaz ho kay bhi najayaz har pal yaad karliya.

“Log kya kahain gay” in lafzon mein bhala para aur yehi sabak bangaya.

Aaj bhi do chehron ko ek saath apne hi saath zindagi ko jhelnay kay liye apna lia.

Ek dostoon aur ghairon kay liye aur ek apni choti si khushi kay liye.

Mohabbat na mili, thoroon na day di hamdaardi.

Toot gayi woh kali, akhir jeet hui samajh ki zabardasti.

[memoirofaqueertransient]

Listen up Girlfriend, My kindred love has arrived at these doors. Listen up Girfriend, The home once empty is alive with blossoms and blooms. When he’s around I am no longer a shell of myself or a ghost. I am a blanket he covers his body with and lights me aflame. Our skin ignites, bodies in a dance branching into each others souls. Listen up girlfriend, My kindred love has arrived at these doors. I was standing bereft of colour and breathless close by him. Wishing for him to place the colour he brought into my world, some unto me. Starting with the kohl in my eyes, the henna on my hands, the vermillion placed on my forehead to make his claim. Look at the state of your lover. For I have lost my mind and body in waiting for your return. Listen up Girlfriend, My kindred love has arrived at these doors. Listen up Girfriend, The home once empty is alive with blossoms and blooms. Listen up Girlfriend, My kindred love has arrived at these doors.

[memoirofaqueertransient]

8:50

Waking up to set myself on autopilot. Desires put on hold, dreams blocked and reported. Working to survive, because responsibilities have denied you the fun you’d enjoy as soon as the morning sun would cup your bare flesh.

[memoirofaqueertransient]

Gloomy exterior 

Gray interiors

Pink Nails

Glittery Middle Finger

Wednesday Masquerading as Friday

Buried in the sheets

Craving Eskimo Kisses

Hopeful for Flower Deliveries

Returning to sleeping till Noon

Awaiting the Outside to match the Insides

the Soul

The scent of White Magnolias

[memoirofaqueertransient]

They say

I’m difficult to love

They state love

In their many love languages

I define their Ishq as lust

Their pyaar as infatuation 

And ask them to provide me

With that old school

Niyat-e-Mohabbat 

That intentional true-love

This is when the excuses come a plenty 

Ulfat-e-Tanhai

This torturous loneliness 

[memoirofaqueertransient]

Cold Shower

Physical Breakdown

Anxiety Overload

Breaths Turbulent

Body Quivering

Hands Fidgeting

Voices Loud

Mind Racing

Skin Crawling

Miniature Pauses

Dance Interval

Spiritual Contortions 

Silencing Demons

Autopilot On

Ending Alone

Open Wounds

Dripping Pools

Isolated World

Tired Bones

Disassociation. 

[memoirofaqueertransient]

Flowy Dress

Floral Stockings

Make up on Fleek 

Running Late

Hid all the manly bits

Except for the Voice

The Gay Voice

That is quick to make

The cishets clock a

Girl trying to revel

In her Gender Euphoria 

[memoirofaqueertransient]

Relationship Woes 2024

After 6 years of dating and talking stages and short term situationships, I now found myself romanticizing everyday plans with this new man. It scares me a little as he sees me as I am, and there is this constant worry that I may not be enough for him.

He’s different, he was born in a body that didn’t quite feel like home. I was born him in a body that didn’t feel comfortable to be myself in and is still quite awkward. He has been on his transition journey for 7 years, and I have been on it for a year and a half. I worry that it’s our trans experience that is enriching our deep understanding for one another and keeping us together. That’s all that is there.

I have no clue on how to navigate a T4T relationship. There’s this sense of failure looming over it, that I want to avoid. There’s this odd sense of peace in our reverse gender identities creating a queerness to the “heteronormativity” our relationship has come to mirror. The space between us feels safe. In the safety, the voices to run away and be single forever ring loudly, because a healthy relationship model simply can’t be possible for a person like me. Which leads to the voices considering me an abomination, a miscreant, a mistake to God’s design, and every other slur and negative comment to ring louder and join in the chorus lines of belittling and sabotaging thoughts.

I am starting to grown onto him or so it seems, and he’s starting to grow onto me. We are exclusively “going with the flow” a phrase I can’t stand but learning to put more trust into it. I don’t want to lose him and want us to work out. I don’t see myself remarried after getting divorced, but I have fantasized different lives for us on different continents. My imagination has bloomed a world for this new relationship that seems to be sheltering me from personal realities of the wounds and fears I have yet to heal and recover from their traumas.

When the past lover stated “If he wanted a woman, he’d married a biological one!” And the man now believes “Transwoman are woman” and treats you right. Why is the need to stay hidden and unhappy? A response to both of these circumstances.

Am I chronically doomed, because I no longer can emulate a genuine response rooted in happiness?

[memoirofaqueertransient]

Heavy Headed Queen

The July Summer heat is in full force with 27°C weather. The sunglasses are a cheap pair from a local Ice Hockey Teams promotional swag, are my eyes really protected? Or are they just adding more to the migraine? She sits with her dog on a hill, the wild grass scraping her exposed calves and thighs irritable that she is uncomfortable. The dog rolling in it with such frivolous demeanour, wiggling his furry body as it’s doing “the worm” (a type of dance) . she finds herself envious of the joy her dog is feeling in this moment.

Her mind is off elsewhere completely on this summer day. The clouds near the sun through her shades shimmer pastel rainbow colours as they smoke their away across the sky. An image that would be a universal sign to promote simple joy in the past; However, today her demons have been hungry like wolves pinning her head in their sharp teeth. The pack members of these demonic wolves ripping her limb by limb serving up a guttural pain. The passerby’s are smiling and idle gossiping and serving pleasantries without conviction “Cute Dog” and “Beautiful Day” unaware her sunglasses are hiding tear filled eyes which are afraid to fall. She has an image to maintain, she has it altogether. The autopilot no longer a fail safe option and malfunctioning. Her demonic wolves acting upon their impulses to rip open the anxieties, fears, sense of failure, depression and insomniac tendencies. All these negative feelings convulsing into the idea she doesn’t belong.

She woke up finding the world she’s busy nurturing and cultivating with her duty to help and heal others…she no longer possessed that sense of wanting to be around to help heal the world and its inhabitants. She wanted the pain to disappear. The discomfort in her heart, body, mind and more importantly her soul. She is overwhelmed. She is scared. She no longer can feel her resilience or the ability to adapt to the situation she is in. Her friends can’t be burdened with her pain, her family can’t know her truth or anymore of her secrets. It would take one quick stroke of a sharp knife to no longer endure the fight and have the peace of knowing even the end of it all was on my terms. It wasn’t a Final Destination moment, a preconceived universal accident or a sign from a vengeful God my time here on his domain is up.

She wouldn’t be missed, the world would forget her existence. Her memories would be of the former self and a former life no longer a reflection of all that she was and of who she truly was. Her family would mourn the son and bury him 6 feet deep and offer prayers “He” would be spared from the hellfires. Her friends would remember the friend that was all too nice and quirky. Her chosen family would remember the woman she was on route to becoming and finally forgiving her for she has chosen to dance with her peace.

She writes all of this to let go of her poison, she puts her phone down, she pets her dog, and listens to “All She Wants To Do is Dance - Don Henley”. Her feet dancing their way to the kitchen, because she is hangry as well as lost in this moment. For today she decides to dance with her pain and her heavy head.