it is 1:55 am and I have just finished a plate of toaster waffles with fake maple syrup, along with two 100mg tablets of spironolactone, and 50mg of sertraline.
i am presently dissolving two 4mg estrogen tablets under my tongue so that they will enter my bloodstream directly rather than being subsumed within my digestive system.
i have $2.45 on my account and about $6.00 worth of food stamps for the next five days, but i have a loaf of bread, an onion, and about five pounds of brown rice and a decent spice cabinet.
i don’t know where i’m going to live from May onward, but that gives me a solid 30 days of secure housing.
i have enough spiro to last for the next three months and enough estrogen to last probably twice that long. i have a commuter bike in the lockup in the sub-basement, presuming nobody has stolen it since i last checked on it a month ago. i have a new pair of flats and a good pair of running shoes. i have two warm jackets, one brown and one black. i have state-issued id which reflects my gender accurately. i have family which tries, fumblingly, to care about me.
this is my life. i am living. i am alive. and i will remain alive. the sky shall witness my crossing and the stone shall tally my steps.
this creature, too, remains, they shall note. she remains. she persists. she endures. though all human eyes may avert at the sight of me and not deign to meet my gaze, the mother we share always looks upon me as she looks upon all she clutches to her skin.
but i am different from these other things, because i am a thing which creates herself. i do what our mother does, and that makes her notice. makes her care. and that is why she gifts me, pre-emptively, her modest boon:
a stubborn refusal to die before one’s time.