I am nothing. I'm sitting here in a hospital bed with not a single flower or balloon or cheap stuffed bear in sight. The only people to come into my room have been a doctor, a nurse, and a group of college students. The group of students shuffled in quietly when, as far as they know, I was asleep. When one young man asked the cause of the wounds, yes he said "cause of the wounds", the surgeon with them whispered "suicide" like he was a little boy scared someone would here him swear. One girl lingered until I opened my eyes and said "Boo!" to get some privacy. I couldn't help but noticing just a bit to many bruises and cuts on her arms. Maybe if I still felt remorse I would've regretted scaring her, she looked almost sad when I did. Oh well, that's not my problem.
When I walked out of the hospital doors today there were plenty of people waiting but none for me. As I walked down the crowded streets of New York City to go home I got called a boy twice but only a girl once. I celebrated alone at a bar after changing into a binder, a button up, and some jeans. Oh how I missed the pinching in my ribs of a binder. It'll have to do though, I can barely afford my studio, much less top surgery. At the bar a man and woman got into a fight whether I was male or female. I instructed them to calm their titties and man-titties because 1. It isn't any of there business 2. Neither of them will find out and 3. My gender doesn’t matter to them. They walked away squabbling about it like 5 year olds anyways not giving a damn about what I said.
Do you see now? I am nothing. These two days both prove that fact. No one cares about me and I don't care about them. I am happy I am nothing.