Gender incongruence.

I wake up, same skin, same mirror, same question
trying to fit a shape that never quite answers back
they call me one thing, but it doesn’t land right in my chest
like hearing a name that belongs to someone I used to play as
I try on versions of myself in my head like outfits
and one of them finally breathes easier
shoulders relax, voice stops pretending
like I’ve stopped performing a role I never auditioned for
it’s not always pain
sometimes it’s just… wrong in a quiet way
like background noise I didn’t notice until it stopped for a second
and I heard myself clearer
but when they say that name—my name
when they see me like that
something in me lights up
not loud, not dramatic
just real in a way I didn’t know I was missing
I don’t always feel broken
I just feel like I’ve been misread
like a page turned too fast, wrong chapter, same story
and I keep imagining
what it would feel like
to just exist without translating myself first
no apology in my posture
no shrinking to fit
just me—simple, obvious, understood
not becoming someone else
just finally being seen right

Alternative, Rock, Indie Rock