(Source: derpycats, via kitty-land)
I am a white trans boy (even though I pass more easily as a sunbear) who uses he/his pronouns. I am an abuse survivor/ptsd haver/lover of dolly parton/friend to cats/live in seattle/hamburger fiend/formerly homeless/easily startled fab fag femme fran drescher boy.
• Ask me anything
Starz 4evr.
Starz 4evr.
The new season will come but it will
never erase what happened. it is a lie
that you are ruined. it is a
covenant with yourself to rise
from the barren ground, wipe the spit
from your mouth with dirty hands
and say “more.”
pinch off every
pink part of you, pop them
wipe away the juices, but
let sweat brine them. singe
the whole lot together,
make your top lip the melted crest
of a plastic headband.
like a ship’s prow, like
a bull’s goring horns, this will be
armor, a glinting tiara.
so fasten back your hair and brush
one long stroke for every word
that ever broke you.
yes, it’s going to fall out.
instead of shampoo, lather your scalp in
scales and beady, unblinking eyes
every morning.
grow back a spiky mane
of lizard tails. learn from them
how to regenerate and snap
up flies with your tongue.
don’t walk, slither
and drag your belly
against the ground. starting over like this
you must be the first
creature who ever crawled
across the planet. you are dry, cracked,
prehistoric.
can’t breathe fire so lick
your mouth orange into a sunrise.
spit red, sneer, bare
the broken jagged columns that used
to be teeth.
you aren’t grotesque, you
are beautiful.
a snake with stars in her eyes.
one day soon, you will let
someone touch you. the mines they laid deep in
your bones will explode.
shed this skin, watch
from the summit of the avalanche
as it all crumbles. this is dawn, so
coax notes from your new throat,
it’s okay.
but this isn’t a fairytale
I’m sorry, sweetheart, sorry
because you’re not
even close. next comes
shivering. it feels like pins
and needles in a way, but more
like the pins and needles of a nation
of grandmothers in creaking
rocking chairs as if
instead of joints feel
embroidery hoops joining your limbs.
they stitch into you
‘home is where
the heart is’ giving
tidy cartographies, crafted from rows
upon rows
of crosses and crosshairs. minuscule
bullseye knots in each center,
enough nots to fill seas
of white picket fences.
shivering like you
will never be warm
again, shivering now
the kin of hummingbirds.
i am
sorry, sweetheart,
but you can’t
stop moving
or you’re gonna die,
have to start the
whole damn thing
over again. it don’t stop
it’s not like i know what comes after
all of that frying
all that mess
but even if i did, i
wouldn’t tell you. if you
love me, you won’t
ask me to.
last night i ended up hanging out with future roomie number 1 and the dude she’s dating, and it went soooo soooo well. like, they are both really chill, really sweet people and so i started testing the waters, told them about like a lot of the icky things. i am pretty much universally displeased when it comes to people’s reactions about trauma disclosures, but it was like, so fine!! it was so okay, and they were so sweet. so i finally ended up telling them about gender stuff and how i sort of am trans but i mean not really, who even knows.
like that went SO WELL they literally just cracked up and making jokes about normy trans ppl and queers trying to make you choose a gender, they laughed at all my jokes about it. like earlier i was like “yeah this is my mario lopez look” and roomie #1 was like “oh yeah, i completely see it” i was so flattered
UGH and like so after that they were like “yeah, but let’s just have a place that is only cats and ppl who can’t do binaries and ice cream and waffles” also we have like, identical food tastes. but like it was so, so good, like i almost never connect with ppl like that/meet folks where i feel like not only can i trust them with a lot of info, but i am invested in the conversation and feeling like there is tons of give and take in it
but anyways i am so stoked that like, all of the gender stuff was 100% okay (when your conclusion about my gender is “i love cats ppl are so weird” you got it a+) and the moral of the story is that houses are great and lots of the time spur of the moment decisions can work out really well. and to be honest, the moral is also that just like queer ppl can be isolating and messed up, straight cis people are some of my best friends in the world and like, it’s okay to have faith in people sometimes
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this is weirdly very comforting to me
hmu if u fuck wit sad girls
(Source: peachys, via duhdoydorothy)
