Like It's Just So Easy


If you piss me off or make me love you I’m writing a poem about it so be nice but not too nice.

I am 17

Sat dumbfounded

Unable to comprehend the words around me

My diagnosis taints the silence

My mum speaks up for me

Her voice protecting mine the way it always has

“What are our next steps, is there a cure”

The specialists chuckles and says “usually we’d suggest pregnancy-”

He is stopped in his tracks

By a look from my mum that might have killed a lesser man

“She’s 17”

I am 17

17 but already my life is set out for me

Like pregnancy is the obvious solution

Like thats my life planned out for me

Like I can have a career - as long as I fight for maternity

Like my body is less a temple and more a vessel

Like it’s so easy

Before I get to share my diagnosis

My off again on again boyfriend asks me

If I think it might be an sti

Like I deserve this

Because of all the times I sucked a dick

Like what was I expecting?

Like promiscuity is the cause and not the symptom

Like if I hadn’t let them violate my body

Maybe this wouldn’t have happened to me

Like it’s so easy

I am 22 the on again off again boyfriend is long gone

I come round from surgery number 2

My new specialist says “we saved your ovaries and your womb for your future husband”

Like I don’t own my body, am merely renting it, so I’ve got to keep it tidy

Like I don’t get to have my own autonomy

Like that’s what matters to me

Like there is only heterosexuality

And there is only monogamy

Like it’s so easy

“Don’t you want a family?”

Like family is what we’re born into not what we make it

Like family is mummy and daddy 2.4 children and a dog all alwaus insta ready

Like divorce doesn’t happen

Like me and my sister who are both adopted can’t be related even though we both drive my mum insane because we can’t admit when we’re wrong

Like the uncle who disowned me for screaming about my sexuality has a stronger right to me than friends or lovers who’ve held me when I couldn’t hold myself

Like there is a mold you need to fit into if you want to be happy

Like it’s so easy

When I hold a baby

“Don’t get any ideas”

Like you’re screaming, shitting, puking offspring

Who I’m holding so you get 5 seconds of peace

Is attractive to me

Like losing myself in the way his head smells

Means I don’t want to hold him back at the end

Like the tiredness around you is appealing

Like it’s so easy

“But you’re great with kids”

Like loving children means I have to produce one

Like my future offspring would remember the time I baked them a cake but forget the time I couldn’t leave my bed for a week and all they could hear was crying

Like I must want to bring my job home with me

Like I can handle that level of responsibility even though I once had rats who ate each other after one died and then died because he ate his brother

Like it’s so easy

“Oooh but you’d be a great mum”

Like mum is a title given not earned

Like until I’ve pushed a human head out of my vagina I am not worthy and as soon as I have pushed a human head out of my vagina I am just mummy

Like mum is inherently better than Aunty, or teacher, or nurse, or friend or even just Katie

I am 26

When I throw my hysterectomy party

I might cry like the baby I will never hold in my arms

And it’s hell deciding between pain free emotional stability and a real life my own baby

So don’t tell me this is easy

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