But I grew my hair longer than most.

I may be a guy,

Yet I keep my shirt on at the pool to hide my body.

I may be a guy,

Yes, I may be a guy,

Even though I enjoy to fish, the peace added in,

I also embrace volleyball, a sport associated with the opposite gender.

Seen as the one who opens doors,

Expected to pay, put others first,

But where are the flowers for me?

Where is my free time with friends?

Where is my invitation to events?

Where is my—

And why does society label me a jerk 

When I question double standards?

They insist, "You HAVE TO do this for me,"

"You shouldn't do that, it's for girls."

"Eww, gross, go away,"

"You can't be depressed, guys can't get depressed"

It's all a rumor, a joke,

A twisted, frustrating myth.

Since elementary, emotions were a hurricane,

Bullied since second grade. And I’ll confess,

I'd pretend to be ill, seeking refuge at home,

Crying in my room, my pillow soaked from tears

And I was all alone.

That room is no longer a haven,

Thanks to one argument, one broken door.

On that cold, rainy night,

Three hours outside, hiding, missing, lost.

There are things I hate about myself,

Things that most guys wouldn't.

My temper, my past, and my body,

Ugly, different, and defected.

A peculiar bump on my ear,

Four different hair colors, a list too long to recount.

And the most frustrating of all,

Thick thighs, a larger-than-normal butt,

And a chest that refuses to develop with all the hard work I put into it.

These traits don't fit the mold,

But they describe me, and I wish they didn't.

I wish to break free from gender's constraints,

I wish to be popular and feel content.

I wish—

I wish—

I wish—

I wish it didn't matter.

I may be a guy, but I don't conform.

For nearly eighteen years, I've lived with this piece of... me.. I have stuck inside.

I've changed, become less depressed,

But the tears, held back for so long, are waiting to flow.

And I may be a guy, but I define my path,

Unconstrained by society’s expectations.