A Kingdom of Ash

When I was young, I was taught that success was measured in status

And magnified by wealth. Both being worn as medals of a suburban war 

Most never see, but pretend that exists. It’s hard to explain it to those that never

Experienced it, as American Culture demands you project your success to 

The public, A Kingdom of sorts, of which you are the ruler.

So I did just that - as I had learned, I found out that success was based on marriage, housing, job, and children, and these four pillars served as the foundation of The American Dream. The better each pillar appeared to the public, the better received you were. I, as a man and last of my bloodline, had the atmospheric pressure to build mine better than anyone else, I had to be a bastion of perfection and conform to the ideals of masculinity.

So I did just that - I spent a decade giving my body, mind and soul to the American Gods to receive a proper education, climb the corporate ladder, and marry a maiden most fair. After all, these were part of the foundation of a Kingdom, and as its King both friends and family alike would sing my praises, like those ballads of wars, and I the hero of them all. So if this is what success looked like, and my kingdom was nearly complete and so many others praising its construction. But with each victory filling others with pride I felt nothing, and I needed to know why.

So I did just that - I spent years searching for the answer, of which I was terrified when I found it. The whiplash of recognizing you’re transgender as the last of a bloodline in suburbia is the quickest ticket to exile and humiliation. I couldn’t dare do this to my family, and I knew I had to keep it away from the world no matter what it cost me, in terms of finances or health.

So I did just that - I continued laboring arduously to fill my kingdom with finer riches, but each luxury robbed me of my sanity and happiness, giving a facade of glory but inside it was hollow. This place brought me no joy, and I knew why, but no one else could. I told myself I’d rather die, and ironically, it was killing me, as each fragment of my being drifted into The Void as I slowly became a husk of who I once was. So much to the point that the pain of the emptiness was unbearable, and I had an ultimatum: face an honorable death, or embrace your truth. I chose the former, but not before I demanded last rites from the curse within.

So I did just that - I took a trip by ways of recreational means to find ‘her’, the me that ruined everything. But when I was ready to lead with hate, she led with kindness, and changed my mind. She was beautiful, she was compassionate, and she was me. I knew at that moment I needed to embrace her, as the promises of happiness were now singing louder than the siren song of death, and if she could convince me to change she could convince the world the same.

So I did just that - but the world didn’t listen, it only fought back. Those that were once singing my praise drove a dagger into my side and left me for dead. I had finally come to terms with the truth, but others could not and retaliated by wishing me dead. The kingdom I had built, hollow but pristine and with so much potential, was now set ablaze as I watched it burn to the ground, with me bleeding out in front of it. Behold my empire, this Kingdom of Ash. It was time to die.

But I didn’t do that - I dragged myself through the ruins of this cursed domain, holding on for dear life as I did, barely breathing the entire time. The price I have paid is immense, as I now have nothing from my former rule, but such is the admission for living an authentic life, another chance to build not a kingdom, but a better life.

And so, I’ll do just that.