i was not born in the wrong body there was no mistake. my body is my body and i would not trade it these are my scars and i let them tell my story, written on the paper of my skin: listen. they call it cracking your egg when a trans kid realizes they want to change when a little girl realizes he isn't when a little boy realizes she wants to be pretty in that way her sister has always been, in the way she's always felt underneath baseball jerseys and monster trucks and baby blues that never meant a thing. i was always afraid to let my egg crack, afraid i would crawl out limp-winged, unattractive unfinished unnatural. abomination: the word echoes in a mother's voice i remember her eyes were wide, terrified as she told me how i would burn if i turned from the light that was scorching me anyways. i refuse to fix my body as if it is broken as if it is not the "true me." i have rebuilt redefined, replaced, but i am not fixing anything, I am aligning i am falling into place i am finding what fits where like broken pottery become mosaic my body is not the enemy we are given the gift of autocreation- reinventing what means "me" because i am the same as I always was this is my ship of thesus- i am no new vessel i am just mending the hull i am just stretching, stitching, sewing the sails that the wind blows full they become my wings- damp and chrysalis-new on nights when the streetlights were calling my name on days when my pulse and my breath caught all of my blame i was just fighting through chrysalis walls I was beating and tearing at the eggshell membrane i was gasping for air with blood under my nails and i was a ship without sails and i was born in the right body because sometimes the right body is a trans body and mine is a temple, one I have rebuilt renovated repainted one I can now call my home a home where I do not need to sneak out of windows or muffle my footsteps, a home where I am not afraid to love who I am a home where I can exist unconditionally