Bury me in San Junipero. Place my body beneath the soil and cover it well. 

Listen to the waves crash  against the distant shores, and let me go. 

It is the only thing I ask of you. Live your life, and make mistakes

as I have. It is the only way  you know you’re truly alive.

Do not go searching for a  perfect world. It does not exist.

If it did, I would not  be here.

You were the closest thing I found to a perfect world, but I could not stop there.

The world I knew was filled with constant confusion and regret.

Time kept passing and things kept changing.

Thoughts kept racing, and  I just kept chasing

for this perfect world.  Why… Why couldn’t I stop?

Maybe if I did, time would have  slowed down

and I could have  told you how much  I loved you.

You knew that, though, didn’t you. And you loved me just the same.

A myriad of thoughts I could never completely grasp. There were always too many voices

leading me down wrong directions, encouraging self-destruction. It became too much.

It was an unhealthy obsession, worrying over everything. I kept trying to control you

despite being unable  to control  my own life.

Spiraling out of control, forced to just sit back  and watch;

every moment closer to impact.

I knew I needed to stop, but I had no idea how.

At last I found the answer, although, not the one we wanted.

It is okay,  though, maybe one day I will see you again.

For now this is where we part ways. We’ve each been given a second chance at life.

Bury me in San Junipero. Place my body beneath the soil and cover it well.

Listen to the waves crash against the distant shores, and please let me go.

Hands pressed together,

Despite knowing our fate.

Your protective touch,

Making it even harder to let go. 

I cannot bare

To look into your eyes,

My eyes.

Instead observing your blurred reflection,

Now dissipating.

No longer my shield,

 No longer my guide,

Within this socially constructed society.

A sudden wave of anxiety

 crashing down,

Followed by an immediate impulse 

to reach out for you.

A response one we’re all too familiar with.

Like an unhealthy addiction,

Incapable of living without you,

Too afraid to try.

Holding back this time,

Facing the inevitable

Alone -

Against my greatest enemy.

Bittersweet memories 

Flash through my head,

Moments of euphoria

Camouflaging our great dysphoria.

This elaborate facade,

Conveying a story

That attempts to 

coexist with reality -

Ultimately collapsing where crucial.

In an impractical world,

One cannot expect

To fulfill their purpose.

Beneath the surface,

Only you noticed my frustration.

You were my savior 

From complete isolation. 

Conforming to the expectations

Set by our peers.

Believing you knew best,

I let you wipe away the tears.

The pressure once felt,

Retreating, for a time,

Like waves on a beach,

During low tide.

For years we lied

To ourselves, to the world.

“A necessary sacrifice

In return for acceptance.”

No longer can I bare to look into

The innocence of your eyes,

My eyes,

And tell you the truth

That you are me,

But I would never be you.

No matter how hard we tried,

Always more it would take.

My heart aches

Saying goodbye.

Wishing for regret,

Not feeling a thing.

You were my past.

Flawed,

But strong. Reckless,

But needed.

It is time to find myself.

Each day it’s become clearer.

Focusing once more on who you really are,

Right in front of the mirror

Every story has a beginning

and an end.

The beginning,

So unfamiliar.

Strange, even.

It does not last long, though.

All it takes is a moment

For the wheels to be set in motion.

Then it is the end

of the beginning,

And the beginning

of the end.

Plummeting into a maze of abstract ideas

No turning back now,

The entrance is long gone.

Each and every turn

Am I getting more lost,

Or am I getting closer

To my fate?

Despite what some say,

Stories have more than one ending.

It depends on what you make of it,

What you do with the journey.

You can choose which way to go,

But where that may lead

There is ultimately no way to know.

Once you are there,

At the ending,

Now conspicuous,

You are left to wonder

Did I find the right one?

Or was there something better?

Can I go through it once more

And try again.

But sometimes,

the end of a story

Only leads to a new beginning.

That is the way it was with us, wasn’t it?

We ran our course,

Yet we didn’t.

You’re not done with me,

Just as I am not done with you.

We are now on the edge together,

Holding on for our life,

Resisting the temptation to let go

And fall into the darkness below.

If I do let go,

Will you come with me?

Even if we do not know

What only the future can show?

What about if you let go,

Would I come with you?

After everything,

Do I still need you?

This is the beginning of us,

The end of us,

And all there was in between.

Not all stories end like ours,

We are different.

Our story never truly ends.

Nor did it ever truly begin.

The day she was born

The doctor said

“it’s a boy.”

and proceeded to wrap her in blue.

When she was one,

she was called big, fierce, and strong;

She just went along.

And she always wore blue.

When she was two,

She was given toy construction vehicles,

plastic dinosaurs,

and a gun - that shot bubbles.

When she was three,

she told her mom that she wasn’t happy,

she wasn’t who she wanted to be,

She was a boy.

Her mom assumed it was a phase

and figured things would change.

She told her

to give it some time.

When she was four,

she wanted a doll.

Her dad bought her a ball,

and called it a close call.

When she was five,

she tried to paint her nails

like the other females.

But her mom found her and took it away.

She cried and cried,

but her dad told her to grow up,

Boys don’t cry.

She should just be a tough guy.

When she was six,

She tried growing out her hair

but then her parents gave her a glare

and made her cut it all.

When she was seven,

she went to school.

Most of her friends were girls

and

they were able to be who they wanted to be.

When she was eight,

her dad signed her up

for little league baseball

He didn’t care for her opinion at all.

When she was nine,

she gave up.

She’d had enough.

This was her life,

and it wasn’t going to change.

When she was ten,

she was made fun of

for taking her shirt off the “feminine way”

at a pool party

When she was eleven

she read that

people who felt the way she did

wouldn’t be allowed into heaven.

When she was twelve,

she got first place in a science fair

and for the first time in her life,

her father was proud.

When she was thirteen,

she realized she was attracted

to other girls.

When she was fourteen,

she was called gay,

and several other names.

When she was fifteen,

she got sick of her life being a lie.

She couldn’t stop thinking how

all she wanted to do was die.

When she was sixteen,

she met a girl,

who was nice and all,

but very confusing too.

They began to date,

to her this felt like fate.

But deep down she knew,

she mustn’t stay around.

When she was seventeen,

she finally told her girlfriend

the truth.

Her girlfriend told her

she knew.

When she was eighteen,

she told her parents something unforeseen

she was a girl,

she always had been,

and always will.