To the person in my aisle picking up the box of mini wheats, I know. To the person in my aisle who my mom had to look at twice to see if they were a boy or girl,I understand. To the person in my aisle who people won’t stop whispering about,don’t feel alone. Every time I see someone like you I can’t help but smile,even though I looked away when you looked at me in fear of being called weird.I did smile. My eyes lit up And i has to suppress every thought telling me “call them beautiful” I know the stares I know the double takes I get the wrong pronouns. I wanted to take your hand, squeeze it tightly and say “ I love the new you “ So to the person in my aisle to took a look at me up and down and smiled that all knowing smile,we’re one in the same. Have a good day.
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