Who am I?
Certainly not Duncan, what people see every day.
The flamboyant,
the supportive,
the leading,
and also the controlling,
and the egotistical,
and the untrusting.

Is that me? Can I look in a mirror and see such a boy?
I don’t think so. But it is what everyone sees, so it “must” be true.
And yet, he traps me, Duncan. Within him, limitations wash up on an imperfection ridden shore.
His mind are a pair of scissors to clip my wings until I can fly to the moon on a single breath of fresh air,
his eyes, colorblind to what is beneath the once black and white flesh of others,
his own skin a glass cage, keeping me rotting within myself, the sight of the world a terrible tantalization.

All I can ask is this: what happens when I become bigger than him?
When I can no longer suck in my stomach and hold my breath to keep from breaking through my cage?
Hushed conversations, over and over, have whispered in my ear.
“The world is not ready for you yet.”
Our world is larger than we imagine.
Edges becoming more sharpened, walls becoming more transparent and yet simultaneously opaque.

What those whispers don’t know is that the world is ready for anything. Instead, ask “are you ready for the world?”

Since the day my eyes opened and the day my legs walked, the top of the world has disappeared into the clouds, taller than imagination.
The scissors, the colorblindness, the glass cage.
I’ve been assuming they’re still killing me too long to actually live.
After 14 years and a million more seconds, maybe I’m ready for the world.

I’m not Alaska,
or Kyle,
or Amanda,
or Robin,
or Allan,
or Lily,
or Art,
or Isaac,
or any of the others I hide behind on a daily basis,
and I am not Duncan.
Black is still black. White is still white.
And I am not Duncan.
I couldn’t be.
So the answer to the question that started it all?
Who am I?
Well, Never have the possibilities been bigger than at this moment, and these possibilities make me happier than I’ve ever been.

I am me, and nothing less.