Identity #12: Metamorphisis

I have been…

Reborn? Rejuvenated?


Within this month, I feel like my brain has been recalibrated. That I’ve turned a corner and am suddenly on the path I’ve been trying to find my whole life.

“I’m on a new level” or some shit.

How did this start?

Ironically, it was in a situation where I was being knocked down for doing what I knew was right. In the face of criticism and petty anger, I faced down that bullshit and felt no guilt, no shrinking, no fear.

Honestly? I felt like laughing. Because the situation was stupid, the circumstances were ludicrous, and the outcome was ridiculous.

And with that resolution, I recognized that the power of people was nothing. That what people think and feel is as relevant to me as the implosion of a distant, invisible star in the opposite end of the galaxy.

Yeah, here come the astronomers  and physicists to tell me that I made a dumb parallel. Guess what? Don’t give a fuck.

It was like the chains fell off and I was made whole.

So much revelation. It was like I had gained enlightenment.

Give me the wisdom of serpents. The harmlessness of cobras. For they only strike when necessary, not out of convenience.

Because that would just be too easy…


Why wait?

Call 8? Nahh!!!

I realize that I don’t need to be before I can get what I want.

I can get what I want and change along the way.

I can get a awesome wardrobe that I want and work on my waistline at the same time. I can be the person I want to be, without waiting for permission from others or myself. I can just be. No questions or doubts.

I can get those awesome short-sleeve hoodies now. Then buy the smaller size when I’m at that level. I can get those tripp pants now, then downsize as necessary.

I can be the guy now. I don’t need to be “her”.

I can be he. And them.

I don’t need to define myself via a label. I can just be myself without naming myself or boxing myself into a package for international transport.

I can work out now, and get the gorgeous biceps of my dreams. And that sexy upper body. And delicious abs.

Fuck. Yeah.

I can be the better me, right now. Not later, not tomorrow. Now.


So, who am I?

I’ve always been androgynous in soul. And my new goal is to reflect my inner self in my wardrobe.

I Don’t want to cut my hair after all.

It’s a part of me, a lifelong growth. My hair doesn’t grow quickly or fast, it took all my life to get it to this length. I don’t see a point to sheering it. I can do what I want with it as it is.

I can do what I want, as I am.

Well, are you gonna be girly?

Fuck no. That’s someone I am not. Never have been, never will be.

I will not wear dresses. But I will wear lipstick -mainly in shades of grey, blue, green, and black.

I’ll be manspreading. And I won’t apologize for being dominant.

I’m nontraditional. And I’m proud of that.

The Day I become Traditional, is the Day I die.

I’ve been dead. I’m never going back.

If anything, I’m edgy. My mind is like a razor, I don’t give favors, and I savor the life that I live. When I meet that girl, I’ma amaze her, not cage her. I’ll be that guy of many flavors, I’ll be the one who saves him, and he won’t even need saving.

I can place my fingers on the pulse of life and grip the reigns of my destiny. At last.


I am grateful

To the haters, the fakers, the missed creators, the power trippers, the ad libbers, the insecure, the losers, the whiners, the criers, the liars, the pyros who lit me up. The gunners who aimed at me, the snipers that picked me off, the grapplers who maimed me, the combatants who stabbed me, the betrayers who flayed me, the mud slingers, the people who said I wouldn’t be shit. To the people who said they didn’t want me. To the people who said I was worthless. That I was insignificant. That I wasn’t “good enough”. That I didn’t “have the credentials”.

I am grateful. 

Because they didn’t kill me. They only made me-

Work it harder, make it  better, do it faster, –so much stronger.

They created a monster. A beast. And by that I mean, unstoppable, invincible, Impervious. Like exposure to disease as a child, the antibodies build up, and the immunity sets in.

So, bring it. I just get better.

I hope they appreciate their creation. Even if they don’t-

They’re welcome.

And, no, I don’t need to thank them. I don’t thank douches.

They can suck my metaphoric dick. And swallow. Then say thank you.



Who am I?

Not the baddest, but badder.
Not the smartest, but smarter.
Not the wisest, but wiser.
Not the master, but mastering.
Not lonely, but single.
Not weak, but stronger.
Not perfect, but achieving greatness.
Not gone, but “still here”.
Not going any-fucking-where.



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