Dear queerness,
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for the lies,
I’m sorry for making you put on that disguise
A fake smile, a fake face, a fake body and a fake place
In this world, telling you what you needed to be
Telling you what everyone needed to see-
A girl.
You’d ask me, why?
Why is it that they must see a girl when it’s not me?
And I would tell you it…just wasn’t safe.
I made you sacrifice your joy in order to save us.
And I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for the battles I made you face
I’m sorry about making you compete in the deadly race
A race against time, a race against the battles
Waged in your mind
I know it must have hurt to handle
I know your life force was like a candle,
Dripping down and down as the flame burned,
Hoping I would save you before things turned…

And I did. But that can’t make up for what I put you through.
The kindness in your heart says “But look at what I’m doing to you!
The writing I do on you, makes you a table
A table for my luxury, a shield
And with every flying bullet it’s another mark on you.
The very thing that helps you pass is holding you back.
I make you hate your own- I’m sorry, our, own voice.
Unfortunately when it came to being born
You didn’t have a choice
In who you could be.
You just were.
How can you say sorry to me
When in reality
It’s I who have done the most wrong?”
But I know you’re only covering because you don’t want me to take the blame,
Or live with the shame of all of that… lying

I wish I could take back the countless hours you spent frustrated
Staring at the clock,
Wondering if you were…crazy.
If I was a figment of your imagination
Pigmented from faulty wiring in your mind
If I was there, a guest at your mental party
Who showed up without an invitation.
Truth is, we were co-hosts of that party.
And as much as this letter is an apology, it’s coming out
All over again, it’s reclaiming now and reclaiming then.
It’s a statement addressing the fact that I
Was the reason you found out that while other’s blood
Is red, yours is purple, yellow, black and white.
The colors of a flag draped around your shoulders, and others’ too.
Our identity
Is like a disease to some.
I’m sorry for all of this pain
I know that progress is slow to gain
But remember that when you’ve been fighting for this long
You need to keep going. Never let anyone silence the song
That your heart has been singing all this time.
And…one last thing.
I’m sorry for making you think that coming out and opening the closet door was like opening Pandora’s box, that when you opened it,
There would be nothing good, nothing for you to use to cope…
Truth is, there was always something left…
And that’s hope.
P.S. I never hated you.
From, your brain.