Dysphoria *poem*

Too masculine.
Shoulders too broad and hair all over my face.
Too feminine.
Movements too flamboyant, voice out of place.
Too fat.
Judgements abound, looks sting like blades.
Too old.
Shouldn't I know better at my age?
All these "too"s, yet it is never enough.
It is never enough.
So dumb.
It's not hard for a bullshitter to seem smart.
So emotional.
Can't play in the real world with your bloody bleeding heart.
So crazy.
Mania isn't attractive, nor are those scars.
So lazy.
Do you expect to do nothing and still be a star?
Either/or.
Neither/nor.
Too much and too little.
Starts at the surface, then breaks the skin,
Letting all the neurosis and insecurities in.
Too butch, too femme
It's all the same.
Little sparks that ignite into flames--
Why can't I just "be", and find some joy...
"That's too simple", my brain says as it starts to destroy
My confidence
My happiness,
My sense of self worth
And all of the accomplishments going back to birth.
I fight and I struggle until it is time for bed....
Til morning comes, and the cycle starts again.