My deadname should no longer exist. When it falls from other people's lips it is like the humming from the lightbulb in my old lamp that pains and rings in my ears.

 

This flickering bulb; expired but still trying to impose its light. I have become one who lives in the dark and one day, no one will be able to brighten the bulb and self-proclaim my connection to it.

 

I understand why they call the name dead. It is a ghost haunting me in ID checks and bank statements.

 

It cannot follow me into rooms with friends who have erased the word from their minds. The spirit is akin to a vampire caught at the welcome mat. Its desire to expose will fall on deaf ears. The darkness will shield me as the sun rises and burns it from existence.

 

The ocean calls my true name. I have not experienced water on my bare chest since my body became something I was told to cover. I will walk into the waves again. I am ready for the salt to kiss my scars and to take my first full breath as I breach the water with ribs uncaged and unbound.