Photo by Tandem X Visuals on Unsplash

Casper’s cloak.

The moonlight was just about enough to exist,
the sunlight kept ushering me into a domain of hate.
Being invisible, something I destined for myself.

To thrive,
remained a chaotic night’s dream.
To survive,
remained an existential crisis.
Being invisible, something I destined for myself.

To know the feeling of love,
meant bearing through a passionate foreplay with barbed wires.
To crave longing,
felt like walking on glass shards of hatred, scavenging.
Being invisible, something I destined for myself.

A casper in frankenstein’s paradise,
Do I dare destine myself anything but invisibility.

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Photo by Mika on Unsplash

Through the timeline, we have existed. Through the galleries of memories, we have sustained the variety of attempts of emancipation inflicted upon us by the bigoted heteronormative society.
But, along the way, we unfortunately had to bid quite a few untimely adieus. They, are them who lived, to only pay for their own existence.

Amidst the doom and gloom of the loses that we, as a community stare straight into, we must compel ourselves to strive for the children of tomorrow. The loses mustn’t be left in vain, but rather be learnt from and have taken strength from.

Existing in…

Photo by Şahin Yeşilyaprak on Unsplash

The reflection I kept seeking,
was well versed in hiding.

Seconds, minutes, hours and days,
weeks, months, years and decades,
I exhausted, searching.

Gazing out into the world,
I kept loosing myself to thoughts,
Is that where I belong?

A nomadic quest, that is my life,
at the mercy of strangers.
Your privilege, is my plea,
the saga that is,
Yours, truly.

Taken for granted, vilified sans reason, outcasted devoid of chance.
Who am I?
A womxn, a transgender human being, a biker, a pansexual individual or one of the trees towering over the amazons doing my best to protect those in my shade?
I am all of the above and then everything else, I am one, all and many more that you haven’t discovered yet.

Deplorable and heinous actions have been long since a norm, the time SHE rises has befallen upon us, she warns us today with her first rays, mend your ways or these glistening rays will scorch in…

Impending uncertainty, delusion and their ensuing gloom.

Our trajectory that once seemed to soar through charts now follows the path of a downed jet.

The effervescence inside us that sparked our desire to venture into this world expecting the unexpected, like an ignored and uncapped bottle of wine, seems to have gone stale.
Yesterday, usually a blur under normal circumstances and their high paces, today, is a vivid, vibrant and lifelike memory, maybe because it is indeed just the same and not just a tale.

As I stare into the abyss, that is the invisible chaos brewing out my window, a question seems to have found refuge in an otherwise pose of stagnancy, is this the new reality? Have we finally learnt to respect each breath we take ever so freely?

Riding further along on my pot-holed journey. A trail of immense vulnerability, peaking confusion, concocted misguidance and organ-freezing trauma(s).

TRIGGER WARNING: The butter knife that was, the read until now, reveals itself as a cleaver.


Pre-teens into teenage years are pretty(yes, I use that word loosely) much a blur at this point, whether it’s just a symptom of onset Alzheimer’s or my own brain trying to somehow protect my sanity, I will eventually find out at some point or not.

My life, or at least the one I exhibited, was in almost all aspects that of a privileged young “lad”. The land where I took my first steps was quite a ways afar from the glitzy…

It took me years, if not decades to fully come to terms with my own identity. The majority of that time including my birth, I spent in various pockets of what the world calls “Middle East”. Throughout the entirety of my early years and adolescence, I was aware of an anomaly that resided within, something that set me apart from what I was entailed to portray.

Born smack dab in the middle of an active war-zone, I was a sight and a half to the tired and sore eyes of a well-educated, hard-working, risk-taking and at times over-achieving middle class…

Sophie B. Roy

A photograph making, motorcycle hopping, globe trotting and cigarette smoking transgender soul, unveiling bits and bobs.

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