I walked into your cascading Greco-roman pillars,
Bright faced and dead-eyed, wearing my favorite
Shirt that sparked a nervous conversation.
I was naive and uninformed then, an inkling
Of hope pulsated through my hands.
You befriended me a tutor with similar
Metropolitan love for freedom and isolation,
Recognized within me something I buried long ago.
That deep curiosity was sparked after years of
Deep shame led to neglect and depression.
A bud in my stomach began to bloom
The second the sharp needle pierced
The flimsy cartilage inside my nose.
Deep euphoria thrilled from the wound in
My nose to the deepest core of my being.
Somehow I felt such a simple movement
A quick push through my nose tip
Kindled a fire of self-exploration,
One that spread into a
Field burning brightly of discovery.
By my second semester of that ever-changing
Form of the first year, I had learned the meaning
Of the correct form of hair care in the state
Of a shitty dye job and curls that
Finally reached the nape of my neck.
I kept cutting it shorter and shorter,
Started applying more dye to remove
The deep black of my hair.
The deep roots were a homage to
A life, I realized, I was unhappy in.
By sophomore year, I began
Experimenting with the idea of my gender
Identity being misplaced, lost in a haystack pile
That was once too scattered to touch
And to even begin the healing.
The healing started with the change in
An outwardly look in regards to my identity,
Then it slowly bloomed into a name change.
A name change bloomed into shaved sides,
Shaved sides became a need to grow and explore.