hi! my name is DEADNAME i hear it resonate through my dysphoria i recoil from my body i desperately want to hold a match stick up to my birth certificate and watch every letter blacken into ash, when i grow up to be a tombstone i want you to burn me too ignite all the dresses i wore to church my name is WOMAN and no matter how many times i insist that it is not i will be categorized with a quaking punch in my stomach and i will throw up SHE no matter how many times i jam this hoodie into a washing machine it will reek of MISS i am cloaked with words of caution to the public (WARNING: GENDER-NONCONFORMING) in attempts to subdue the truth because if it unraveled i would be myself and myself will shatter minds and destroy virtue because my psyche is a crime scene my humanity is a dangerous opinion and my identity is a car crash it is a siren wailing magenta it wraps around my chest like police tape i wish i could use it as a binder those knuckles feel infinitely more therapeutic than the aftershock of FEMALE i would much rather be bruised and downtrodden and battered and beaten from every centimeter of my body than to submit to the declarations of GIRL i want you to punch me again please punch me again please punch me again please punch me again please punch me again please my name is DELUSIONAL and i heal paper cuts with bow ties because it’s as close as i can get to a suit when me and my wardrobe are confined within the same nine square feet of wooden floor and i still come close to weeping when i get my flu shot but fill that syringe with testosterone and by god you can slay me like a beast, skewer that needle through my skin like a katana and i will embrace it i will live for the torment, pretty hurts and by god i am a masochist, to mask the sting by god i will sing like a gospel, a gospel who gets called handsome by strangers and owns a voice deep as a goddamned ravine my name is SNOWFLAKE and i hope i give you hypothermia, asshole. my name is PUSSYBOY and i drank too much lemonade at the movie theater so i must make a choice whether to get scolded and renamed PERVERT or to get pummeled until i piss myself so i decide to just wait until i get home, i look in my desk during a geometry lesson and i discover a sticky note that threatens to make my name another hashtag, the beginning of a dozen breaking news articles titled TRANNY TEEN TO BE SCROLLED PAST (followed by either victorious chuckle or exhausted sigh) my name is YOUNG LADY and while filling out my passport application i flooded the box with an M beside it with ink and never told my mother and i smiled to myself for the first time that week and i still don’t regret it i will never regret it because no matter how many times i hear edicts of DAUGHTER she can never take that precious M away from me my name is SINNER and i am a disgrace to faith a mutant a freak an abomination a monstrosity not a man just a girl who aspires to mutilate herself into an excuse for one i am a shapeshifting sorcerer you see LESS THAN HUMAN little do you know i am a FUCKING DEMIGOD and i may be the owner of weeping willow twigs for arms and i may be left on the brink of passing out when i climb up the stairs but i will grip you by the collar of your shirt and haul you into hell with me on the other side of this mirror, by god my name is MATT. i found this out at age fourteen. i deciphered myself at age fourteen. it’s just one syllable. it is a firecracker mistaken for a gunshot and i will leave cisnormativity riddled with bullets and the pistol’s name will be MATT, a kid from middle school will run into me on the street and tell me they can’t quite remember what my name is and i’ll shamelessly rewrite history and remind them, it’s MATT, a lady at starbucks will ask what to write on my cup and i will say MATT and she’ll spell it with one T instead of two because you know how starbucks is but i honestly won’t give a shit, it’s good enough, i will scream my revelation from my fire escape at four in the morning in triumph MY NAME IS MATT and someone will yell back from their car HEY MATT, SHUT THE FUCK UP and i’ll take it as a tribute, MATT is a MAN and HE sliced his body open and poured ecstasy inside when a cashier called him SIR that one time at walgreens, MATT is yet another piece of proof that the assignment received by some fucker in a lab coat doesn’t have to be a prison and you don’t fully understand these boxes we’re crammed in until you break them yourself, MATT’S individuality is authentic HIS love is authentic HIS reflection in the mirror is authentic and its name is MATT, MATT found out the life expectancy of a transgender person is around thirty-two years old and you better believe that MATT will live to be thirty-three and HE will give a little bit of hope to trans youth who don’t even think they’ll be able to wake up to sixteen and HE will give a big ol’ fuck you to everyone who doesn’t think HE deserves to breathe in their world for that long, by god, you better believe that MATT will live to be thirty-three, you better believe that MATT will make it to thirty-three, you better believe that HE will make it to thirty-three, you better believe that I will make it to thirty-three
SYNONYMS FOR MATT (via adorners)













