The Gentrification Of Freakiness

trans women, i love you.

you were a woman yesterday. you're a woman today. you're a woman tomorrow. you're a woman forever.

trans women have existed long before those stuffy bigots sitting in a court room have. trans women will continue to exist long after they're dead and rotting in the earth.

there’s something healing and beautiful about finishing your masters degree to the soundtrack of your middle school self

Have that pathetic crying session. It will save you

get it done the weird way. do it in parts. do it “wrong”. do it “late”. do it scared. it’s just better to do it differently than everyone else rather than never do it.

zoom is literally the downfall of proper academia. what do you mean the university has a delayed opening and I've been sitting on a class zoom call since 9 am (and will be on it till noon) instead of playing in the snow and recharging. why am I raising my little virtual hand to talk about the environment (which I know 0 about, do not ask me how I'm doing in this class the answer is not great) when I could be dicking around with my friends in the snow giggling and enjoying life. I know that I'm a graduate student but we need fun and whimsy (and a god damn break) too.

drink water & masturbate today bc you deserve that

Finally winter break (thank fuck). I haven’t opened my computer in 3 days, just finished reading my first multi chapter fic in months, did both arts and crafts, woke up and the time ended in pm, and haven’t uttered a singular word to anyone in days but my cat… let’s play a game, is it:

A: burn out and now that I’m on school break it’s hitting hard

B: mental illness that can finally present now that the blanket of stress that is school has been lifted

c: all of the above

happy autism awareness day to all the girls who had “ friends” growing up who were actually bullying them . to the girls who always sat alone in the grass and wondered why nobody wanted to talk . to the girls who spoke to animals like they were listening . to the girls who created a little world in their room . to the girls who always felt ashamed for how deeply they love things and how passionately they enjoyed media . to the girls who covered their ears when they were overwhelmed by everything . to the girls who carrying a special thing around to feel safe . to the girls who never understood what they did wrong to feel so lonely . to the girls who were diagnosed later in life because they weren’t little boys who liked trains. you are so special and beautiful and you’re not worse for it, you love deeply and that is so wonderful please never try to push that down . I LOVE YOU !!!!!

[gripping the sink] perfectionism does not help me avoid embarrassment or shame. perfectionism is in itself a form of shame. when i struggle with perfectionism i struggle with shame. when i struggle with perfectionism i struggle with shame. when i struggle with perfectionism i struggle with shame

but then again, I guess that the cures of the oldest daughter: the planner, and the celebrator, and the designated driver, and the giver only to also be the butt of every joke and the forgotten one in the back…