I fell in love with a girl.

he promised himself he wouldn't do this. he promised himself he'd be okay. somehow seeing her changes everything. there he is, thinking he's in a dream, when he finally realizes that she's really there. this is where the odd part starts. he can't breathe normally, can't stop himself from feeling faint, being dizzy, having a giant headrush. the only thing is. the last girl who made him feel like that, the only other girl, he was head-over-heels in love with. so he starts to wonder. could he possibly be in love with her? he just doesn't know, there wasn't enough time to figure it out. so the butterflies in his stomachs will stay, the moments of longing will continue. he doesn't know how he should feel. he's all scrambled up.  the world is beautiful. sometimes he wants to go around outside in the middle of the night and tell everything that he loves it, hug every tree, every lamp post, every object that it is physically possible to hug. he wants to sit down with the hedges and talk about the world's old way of trying to motivate things. he wants to sleep amongst the critters that litter treetops. but most of all he just wants to breathe it all in.  one more day to get through before he takes off to the land of weekends and queer. he waits for the clock, getting closer and closer with each passing second. he feels so ready to get away. the nighttime trying to force him to give way to the sleepy moanings behind his eyes. nothing actually did much better. he tries to let sleep take over. he just can't and he knows it.  not many of the world's strangest ideas come together and produce something. there's so much difference in the world. he tells himself he can brave it out for.  <3 <3   

the thought has occurred.

apparently there's a connection with lack of sleep and wanting sex, smoke, and substances. that explains a lot. seriously, so much explained right there. he just wants it all, at one time, right then. he struggles to try and contain himself. it just isn't worth it all the time. sometimes he just wants to go act on his impulses and see what happens. there's a fairly good chance it wouldn't be good though.. he plots his attack against humans, attack against the world, way of hiding from humanity. fuck it, he just needs to get away from everything that is corrupt and hurtful. he news to get away from a society who thinks that war will solve any problems at all, a society that thinks women should be in one shape and size, a society that forces people/ kids/ teens/ anyone to take their lives just because they don't fit the "norm". he needs to run away, to not look back, to breathe in a way that allows him to not have to deal with the rest of the fucking world. he's tired of reality. the world is wearing him out with its ideas of perfection and expectations of the general public. the world is freaking him out when the people can't think for themselves anymore, even "hipster" has become mainstream and there's no way to stop the people from becoming clones, drones of each other.  his heart is stuck in a land between two emotions; his life is floating down an uncertain path. nothing really makes sense anymore when he stops to think about it. really, it's just another way of making him try to be like all the rest of them, to believe that everything is completely sane. he knows better, he can see the madness behind their sinful eyes. he breathes. deeper, deeper. it'll be okay for once. nothing makes sense, deal with it.  the longer he stays awake, the more he wants to just have someone to hold, someone to care, someone to free him from the torture that is being in his body when everything around seems to turn him on. he can't feel anything else besides that extreme desire to do anything the least bit physical. he misses the days where things were simple, where he had a list of fall backs if he needed a pick-me-up, an ego boost. these days it doesn't work like that. he wonders what it would take to keep a girl around for once. just once, that's all he really asks.  <3 <3    

once you're in you own my heart.

he misses smoking so much it hurts. every time he smells a little smoke off in the breeze, every time he passes a smoker on the sidewalk, every time he hears people talking about the chron they have.. his lungs feel naked and unloved. everything just feels too stressful for him, he waits and waits for a chance to just go for it and have a puff, a drag, whatever he can get his hands on. he waits to calm his racing mind. it kills him that the smokers of the world have gotten such a bad rep, they have such beautiful minds yet no one cares to look beyond the smoke clouds. and the stoners, he misses them, how they are like family.  he walks into the class feeling a little self-contious. everyone knows what they're doing, where they sit. he walks in 3 weeks later and it's day 1 for him, he can feel them laughing. he tries to gain the energy to do something, to feel something. it's no use at all.  he fights and he fights and he fights. he tries to stay away from anything to do with making the school a better place. he strays from showing any positive emotions towards the school. finally he gives in and he ends up in a newspaper meeting. he has memories of the elementry paper flooding back, tugging at his heart. he can't watch a dying paper and do nothing about it. despite every molecule of his being hating everything school papers stand for, he feels compelled to fix it, to help revive it from the ashes. he will pour his heart into it just to see it live. he doesn't know why he's doing this, although somewhere in his mind he's still trying to gain her aproval, make her see he's not a complete idiot. after weeks, months of feeling lost there is an escape. it may just be for the night, but it's okay because he needs a moment to clear the bad thoughts away and just live and be accepted completely. he's tired of the lies, of pretending that people are fine with him while they are really uncomfortable with having any knowledge of him. he needs to let it all just happen so that he doesn't burst all over the place in a sopping mess. he needs an escape to queer.  <3 <3 

breaking my back just to know your name.

there's a mess in my head and lies on my lips. don't know the truth anymore, just trying to figure it all out. the clock keeps on ticking by way too fast. it doesn't help at all. whispers of "I'm okay" and "everything is fine" make their way from my vocal cords, those same ones that can't produce low enough sounds to be recognized as the boi, the man I am inside.  the wind howls, the rain pounds, yet he's cooped up inside, waiting to go play in the stormy weather, to be swept up off his feet by the wrath of nature. he waits, alone, always alone. he wishes he could form the words his mind wants to say but somehow they're just out of his grasp. he just needs to go out and feel for once. feelings never were an easy thing, even more so when he doesn't know which to feel at any point in time. everything just seems either apathetic or melodramatic and it's driving him crazy. he needs to just feel without having any kind of judgement on his scale of feeling.  his throat quivers, he realizes days are passing by faster and faster. he doesn't feel ready at all to leave high school. he doesn't feel as though the school system has really prepared him for what is to cone next, like he'll be diving head-first into something that he doesn't even know how deep it is, just taking the risk. the days for applications to start being handed in are drawing nearer and nearer. is it too late to decide he wants to take a year off first? although his family would never allow him to take the time.  everything is falling into place and he doesn't even know how. things are getting done before due dates even when he feels so tired he can't even move. he could be about to drop dead from exhaustion and then the pile of homework will magically dissapear until next time. if only it really was magic, if only this is the hardest that this year would have for me at all, then it would matter so much, he could start to relax ad get into the flow. much of the world is hiding right now, in a year he will be able to tell how to figure out which parts are real. he will be out there, braving the world without the shelter of a general studies school to keep him from working on something he'd be interested in. he gets to choose who he is, what he will be doing, why he is such a crazy person.  <3 <3 

he was a boi, she was a girl.

today he found out the worst thing about having short hair.. when you buy really yummy smelling shampoo you can't smell your own hair because it's not long enough to get to your nose... he starts to wonder what he should do with his hair after all this bullshit about having to just let it grow out and all that for grad. *shoots* in a way he misses the long hair, hiding behind it like a curtain. then he realizes how much he loves dreads all over again and swears he'll let them take over and cover them in wraps and beads and tie them up with pretty shoelaces and make them beautiful. then he sees all the amazing different dykey hairstyles on tumblr and wishes he had the time and money to keep one of them up. overall, he misses dye. purples and aquas and turquoises and blues and greens all dance around in his mind. he thinks maybe he'll start there, then see what happens. maybe he'll grow his hair out to a good foot long, then start to dread it. maybe he'll just let it do whatever the fuck it wants and be free. the first thing on the to-do list is to grow the fucking bangs out, those things are driving him fucking mad.  he feels okay as long as he can't see a mirror, can't see that the person he looks like is nothing like the person he sees in his head. he is actually slightly shocked every time someone calls him "she" or "miss" or "girl". it's a funny kind of mistake. he doesn't think they're seriously calling him that, they don't think they're doing anything wrong. he tugs at his clothing, wishing he could fill it in the right ways, instead he has curves in girly places and it makes him want to hide. he tries to run from the looks, the words, anything that labels him as anything he doesn't believe he is.  he struggles, trying to scrounge up every piece of female in his body so that he doesn't physically break down with the touch of "grad dresses" against his skin. his eyes try to stay cloud-free, his throat attempts to not close up, his skin tries to stop itself from itching. maybe for a day or two he can manage to not despise the xx chromosomes in his DNA. he longs for that missing y.  <3 <3 

I am not a whore.

what do you do when you're on the run from an abusive husband? when your kids have to be homeschooled because there's a chance you could have to flee to a different town any moment if he tracks you down. apparently you go drinking. you come home for a few days and go out with friends to drink. it would be nice if I could just have a couple. I've missed the burn of alcohol down my throat. everyone around me is drinking, it's fucking high school in grade 12 and I haven't had a drink in over a year. even then I haven't had all that much to drink for... just under two years. the party goes on without me and I just sit in the corner, waiting for someone to take notice. I wait for love to pass me by yet again.  he cant really debate to save his life. he just tends to care about the other person and end up agreeing with them and feeling like they're mad at him for being a complete idiot. he gets to a point whe he realizes that there's no way in hell that he can form the words to say what he's feeling, what he needs to tell them. and then it's over and he feels like crap and it's lost all the fun. but he can keep trying, hoping one day he won't just have to walk away and say fuck it, you're right and I'm wrong. his self-esteem needs for him to be right at least some of the time. tonight he was introduced to the land of the fae. where girls are fucking hot and seductive and he really wouldn't mind being pinned up against a wall, tied into a chair, fucked until his power's nearly depleated. for the first time there's a show where there is no definition of a single sexuality, sexuality is completely fluid, and completely based on who's in front of you at the time. he loves it, craves it. he longs to be bitten or choked or scratched. he doesn't know how to handle feelings when they bottle up, he just knows that he should stop himself from hitting on anything that moves and has a hole between their thighs.  he wants to bleed, to tear away the flesh and just let himself run dry. he dreams of the headrush that such a blood loss could provide. he wants to feel pain in the best way possible. he hopes to be stretched in ways he didn't realize were possible. for now he'll dream, wondering why he always let's them get away, why he doesn't have the ability to keep the girls around for more than a few months before they just can't do it anymore. he wonders if it's really that difficult for others or if it's just him that there's something wrong with. he smiles on the outside as he wipes his eyes and hopes for something worthwhile in the future, something worth sticking around for. <3 <3      

you don't have to try.

some days there really was meant to be no actual party, just a build up. just a chance to have a bit of human contact. sometimes fog machines set off fire alarms in entire buildings, causing firefighters to crash the party before it even really starts.  these days the only reason to hang out with friends seems to be to rber the fact that he just can't control himself for much longer, he needs some sort of physical attention from girls. alone kills him, reinforces the idea in his mind that he's just not good enough. he needs just something out of the ordinary, something to keep himself from bursting completely.  there's only one problem, such nights make him tired. there's no way for him to escape the constant drowsiness he deals with after a night out. every bone in his body is crying out, hoping for something that will make a difference. he gets so close to closing his eyes for the night, then he thinks of her and the tears come flooding back, just waiting for everything to be over.. <3 <3 

let me take you down, cause I'm going.

remember those days in school, the ones where the kids in tha back row are acting up and you can see the teacher slowly losing control? eventually they scream, they yell, then they continue on with the class like nothing happened. living in this house is kind if like that. it's always that awkward moment where you don't know if she's done yelling or not. you don't know if it's safe to breathe. as long as I remember I've had to try to read her mind, had to think of what she would want before myself. everything has been to keep her happy. eventually I needed a bit of a life away from her, I began to sneak out at nights to see friends, to let lose, to stop playing perfect, to finish homework that would never get done with her amount of only accepting perfect. I eventually tried to come out, to seek a piece of my identity that was really me, not the shadows of what could've been for her. I never learned to manage time because in the end I'd have to stay up all night while the dragon was sleeping to get things done. I never learned to think for myself, it was always thinking for her. I never learned to value myself, how to feel any emotion but hate ad shame when I look in the mirror. I never learned to do anything on my own because she never trusted me enough to do it, then all of a sudden expected me to know how without any teachings. I never learned to speak up for myself because that would be sure to be followed by being yelled at, having things thrown at me, or by being slowly told that I'm not good enough for anything.  it became so deeply embedded in my head that I honestly do not hear the voices trying to play a positive role, just the ones breaking me down. each breath of air is a symbol of the pain I've lived through, how many times I've broken down from pure exhaustion of holing myself together.  there's a pile of things that need to be done. at this point he has no clue what is to be done still and what is already done. it all blurs together. there are some things he doesn't even know if they're still happening.  he's lost all faith in humanity, all ability to trust. sometimes the only reminder he's alive are the cool tears running down his cheeks. he doesn't remember how to feel without forcing an emotion.  he was told to give up hope, to move on, to just forget. he doesn't believe that would be a good path. he will keep fighting until he dies trying. the weaknesses in his heart replaced by hope and love until the next time his heart breaks all over again. it's gotten to be almost an hourly occurance. it eats him up inside, but it gives him something to do. <3 <3   

you can't stop the beat.

deboo. (day-boo??) fuck, I don't don't know how to spell it, I don't know what to wear, I don't know what to get her, and I don't fucking know how to dance. but at least I was given the choice between what the "girls" do, speeches, or what the "boys" do, dancing. that made it seem like someone actually is taking me seriously. then the stoopid grad dresses 2012 group got started.. a girls only group that I have no fucking clue if I should be in at all. but Halloween is coming up, might be time to start looking into finding a purple tail coat. sadly Halloween is the one season I end up spending way too much on clothes. the costumes and over-the-top things are exactly what I need in my wardrobe.  eventually should start organizing my wardrobe in male-presenting, female presenting, and drag queen. that would make mornings a hell of a lot easier. as would getting rid of all the useless crap laying around my room, but whatever.  nothing seems to make quite as much sense as the world used to. maybe he feels the disconnect with everything, having such a sudden shock switching from summer life to the rainy days in september. maybe he misses the chances he had at squishing sand between his toes in temperatures that make it okay to be wearing less than he feels all that comfortable in. tempuratures that force him to make his girly side take over a little. maybe he just doesn't care at all about the school year even when it's supposed to be the only year that really matters all that much. maybe none of this is really setting in as reality, he doesn't quite get it yet that this is real and the happy endings aren't going to happen. maybe even after a year I these halls he feels like a stranger, hoping to see familiar faces that he can fall into their arms and feel safe from the big, bad world. he still doesn't see those faces he's searching for and it's taking its toll. he finally starts to notice that one of those friends he considers quite close is both his complete opposite and his partner in crime, they have their moments where they see as one, but then she goes and rants about how leftists are fucking crazy. if he had to label himself, the closest he could get to a label would most likely be left. sometimes he wonders how the two of them ever get along. she's living in a technological world of the future, while he tries to run in the opposite direction into the past, into the lack of civilization. maybe that's what keeps friendship interesting.. <3 <3    

if you swear to listen.

he's happy to rest after such an eventful day. then he realizes it's only tuesday. he's more of a clutz than he ever realized before, he manages to trip over speed bumps and crash into doors while trying to look manly. he really is the definition of of a screw up.  the worst part is that he doesn't even care anymore, he's gotten so used to being that object to point and laugh at.  lately in life, god has been mentioned around him, in his school projects, in everything. it's forced him to relook at what he believes in all this shinanaigans. if there is a god out there somewhere (which he highly doubts, ze most likely died a long time ago after initially creating the first sparks of Earth) ze must be a sadistic, sick fuck. sure, ze does a little bit of good every once in a while, if that is really god, but most of the time god just sits there and watches people suffering, people dying. to believe in a god that would do such a thing is somewhat insane. hir amount of followers is freaking rediculous for the amount of fuck-all ze does for them all. he believes in odd things, rather than worship a dead or deranged god he would rather show his love directly to the nature, to the world, to the biotic matter. he finds it easier to show love to a physical part of the world than to hold onto an idea of someone who may or may not exist anymore.  if he learned one thing today, it would have to be that he can't talk to his mother about anything serious. not only that he physically can't because he's too fucking awkward to be able to explain certain concepts to her, but also that she's quite possibly the biggest transphobic person he's met. she doesn't understand anything about respecting gender, gender identity, or gender presentation. maybe one day she'll learn and it won't send him into tears every time she opens her mouth to make a comment.  <3 <3 

sleep the pain.

he's never felt like so many people supported him before. one facebook status and everyone seems to care. everyone is on his side. it feels like he's won the battle, yet the cold hands wrap around his throat once more and his mother drags him down to her level, the level where he has no say and he has to put on the dresses and paste on the fake smiles. he has to say thank you when they misgender him, when they tell him he's a pretty girl.  girls are always supposed to say thank-you, even after getting raped. he thinks for a moment. that may just be part of his general hate for being thought of as anything female. weak, servant to man, without choice, fragile, to be used. that is how he sees his body, just another useless instrument unable to fight back. weak, although he could start it with a kiss, he couldn't fight back, he couldn't say anything other than no. but sometimes no isn't enough. sometimes being female bodied means feeling like he owes somthing to the other boys, they deserve what they want because they were born in the right bodies. but this was before. this was when he was a she without question. when "she" didn't know the difference from unhappiness and how life is. sometimes we all just need a little push to realize we deserve a little better.  like a girl he has to say please, please hurt me, please disrespect me, please make me feel inferior. he has to be the little doll everyone wants to play with. he has to say thank-you. thank-you for using me, thank-you for the pain, thank-you for making me into someone I'm not.  he wishes he could be seen as anything but a girl, that people could see beyond skin, beyond DNA, beyond the high voice and the long lashes. he wishes he didn't have a skewed image of what girl really is. there are many things he wishes, for now death is not one of them. for now, each day will come as it can.  he never saw himself as a feminist. he looks at all the feminists of the past, and just for a second he thinks that he might just understand what they were trying to say. <3 <3  

I fell in your arms tonight, it was nice.

some days I get an overwhelming urge to just start running and not stop until complete exhaustion overtakes me. after a quick break, do it again, and repeat this process until I get to some place I've never been and I don't even know how to communicate with the locals. I want to soak in their culture until it becomes part of my very soul. but that will never happen. if I do ever take a chance and run somewhere, I know it will end up being to see you. as much as I try to avoid it, I can't. when my thoughts roam, they always find their way back to you, no matter what they were on before.  there has to be some escape, some way to make everything just stop and go back to normal, before everything turned to thinking about you. it's become an addiction, an unhealthy habbit. these scenarios keep playing in my head on repeat, rewinding and slightly changing until I get it right. memories unfolding at moments least expected.  he's lying in a lump, a pile on the floor. he doesn't know quite what to make of this cruel world. words like bullets "she" "her" "girl" "daughter". a sniper aiming each one for a kill. for some unknown reason he's still here and the wounds keep getting deeper. there is no reaction each time he gets hit, no one notices, no one even cares. they assume that the fake smiles, the constant hugs  are a real happiness as apposed to a cry out for someone to take notice. he lays alone at the end of the day, no one caring. he waits for the day that someone will get it right, where someone will look him up and down with a puzzled look upon their face and finally settle on "sir". it's all he ever asked for.  he rediscovers scars, mostly self-inflicted. these scars from years past. they've almost been hidden, but with a careful eye they're still there plain as day. he looks back at the moments that caused him to drag blades, pencaps, bobbypins, anything he could reach, across his skin. he wishes he could say that part of his life is behind him. he knows that it will be back sometime, be it a few days, weeks, months, or years. it will be back.  <3 <3   

I never thought I'd see this moment, I never thought I'd fall in love.

today I found something worth doing, worth talking about. 52 projects. I started to read through them, reading the ideas of little crative projects to get the juices flowing. quite honestly, I loved the majority of them. pictures, letters, documenting different events, keeping little things from random times. quite honestly it seems like a whole new take on life that I'm ready to take on. the only problem with reading through them is there are a few that include a significant other. as well as quite a few that just make me think about you. one in particular, waking up at 5am. upon seeing that one my thoughts just lead to wanting to watch a sunrise with you, limbs tangled together, a pot of tea to keep us awake. the whole rest of the list I couldn't really read quite the same, my thoughts just kept going back to that mental picture. 

today I made an anklet, one that stays on 24/7. I even superglued the ends together. at first I didn't know why I would want to keep something on, then I realized what it could be capable of. the moment it falls off I will stop hoping for things to change. I'll get on with my life and stop thinking in the past.. that is if before it falls off things don't change, we don't figure something out. the clock is ticking and I don't even know for how long. 

I can hear the rain pelting down, I can open my window and smell it, but I'm stuck. just another stoopid window with a screen to keep me in. I long for the days when I could sit on the windowsill and look out over the trees, the lagoon, the stars up above. now it's just staring through mesh at another ugly building, another falling-down fence. 
the city life is slowly killing me. the cars on the busy street in front of the house making more noise then usual with the rain-slicked cement. I consider burning another insence to calm my racing mind, quickly decide against it because it's only warm beneath these covers. maybe if I wait long enough I can catch the sun coming up in the morning, sit on the couch by the only windows that look out over the fields across the street and just watch. sit amidst a pile of warm blankets and forgive the sun for all the pain it's caused me in the past. 

there's nothing better than freshly shaved legs on a more female day. the way it feels just is like no other feeling on this planet, and when the sudden rush of girly isn't followed by a rush of dysphoria, all the better. the smell of the strawberry lotion mixing with the cinnamon in the air is just about what heaven would smell like. 

<3 <3 

I wanna fly away.

it's a wonder how a group of straight people can be so queer without actually loving the same sex or gender. there is just so much queerness that kind of is catchy, mannerisms and such. all the straight folk hanging out with the queer folk absorb the queer a little. if only more people ended up that way, then homophobia wouldn't be an issue at all. 

smoking tea is a new concept to him. he's seen it be done, he's had friends explain how amazing it tastes, but before tonight he'd never tried. yerba mate is an amazing thing to smoke. it's literally like flowers blooming in your mouth, and the act of smoking it calms you down and helps you to just sit and study or do whatever you needed to do. he might have to try it more often on his own. then again, he needs to go and buy some more teas because his selection of non-boring teas is low. everything is just green or chai or earl gray or a plain black tea. he needs more intense teas. even more so if he'll be smoking them from time to time.

he gets so tired he doesn't want to move at all, he knows that if he goes to sleep he might actually remember his dream and that dream might be one where she doesn't care anymore, where shit hits the fan, where there is nothing. then he might wake and not realize it was a dream and keep living life that way, hiding the fact that he cares more than anything that she cares even a little. 

<3 <3 

she made me come inside.

funny how one book can start to change an entire world. such different subjects can be brought together: religion and homosexuality. he rethinks everything he's ever really done in the last few years, everything he's felt he couldn't be part of because of who he is. everything is being put into a new perspective. this year everything's different, this year he might just give in and end up going to the qwanoes retreat. he'll never know where trying to see things a different way could take him. once upon a time there were twins who managed to actually have a great time in life without succoming to anything that their peers had become victims of. he never understood how they did it, maybe he could get them to show him how. they used to be his best friends in the world, now he doesn't ever hear from them or see them. he comes to the conclution that he misses them trying to keep him on the right track. 

he really needs to get a spare. then maybe homework wouldn't be impossible. EVER. extra time to just chill and relax and shizz is great. maybe if he's actually thinking instead of zoning off and thinking about random things (girls) he could put together a cohearent sentance. 

sometimes when he has an itch he just wants to pierce the area to make the itch go away. that may not be the best solution, but it works. or sometimes I get lazy and just want to tape up a few too many rounds and my earhole hurts from overstretching. hopefully within a month he'll be able to wear the zebra swirls. 

time to buy a two-year-old... Volkswagen, in the morning. getting into the high zone should be fun. feeling high is a specialty.

<3 <3  

I've had my pain like the rest of them, that's why I'm always laughing.

is there a point where one is simply 'too queer'?? he thinks if such a point is possible, he may have reached it. his mind does not have thought processes that don't manage to come back to rainbows or something gsm-related. even in his spare time he finds himself browsing which post-secondary schools offer lgbt studies programs. there are only three in Canada, he can name them all, also only one in north america that allows the student to major in lgbt studies (and of course it's in San Fran). and only about a dozen that allow for it for a minor, the rest are just extra classes. he knows that there is in fact an institute of gay and lesbian education. they offer only four or five programs, but two of them interest him greatly. the only problem is it's in west holywood. not only is that far, but he doesn't overly like Hollywood in the first place. school projects can always be tweaked to allow for a gsm-related topic. even in the summertime he was dreaming up projects and how to go about reasearching them. when he goes to take out a book he decideds there is only one fiction queer book in the school library he hasn't read, so maybe he should get on it.
at this point he pretty much lives, breathes, and eats queer. he's ready to burst, he needs to impliment some gsm knowledge on the rest of the student body, as well as the staff. it's killing him a little to have all these conversations in his head because nobody else would understand a word he says with all the lingo he uses. his only outlet where he can actually speak instead of write is his old school's GSA. funny thing is, he's putting more effort into that than anything he's done in his current school. sadly, he's losing his spark of bubbly and queer in his current place because of so much being just conversations within his selves in his head. he fears he may be tuning the rest of the world out. 

he misses the days of having actual connections with others. these days it seems like the only ones he connects with he only talks to over the Internet and through spontaneous texts. there are only about five or six people he can actually feel that they are real humans, they have actual souls. the rest he does try to reach out to now and then, but it feels like they no longer fit the human qualification. they are just objects, things to awkwardly interact with to keep wasting the time, keep the body occupied doing something other than gazing into the distance.

the rain is coming, he smells it coming closer each day. before then he begs the world to allow some good to come from life and let him take a spare while waiting to get into bio. the spare time he could use to unwind a little, break in a new notebook, break out the hemp, and just be at one with the world, the earth, all of his surroundings. 

<3 <3      

cause I couldn't stand the pain.

the world just doesn't want to go his way. days go by where it's just the same old shit over and over, piling on too much for him to ever get done, mind racing faster than the speed of light. he waits for the weekend. he waits to be with people who understand a little bit. in the mean time he roams the halls feeling lost. he has entire conversations in his head, tries to figure out just what he should say, then he has to hold back the emotions before they all come leaking out. he holds in the anger, that teenaged angst, the feeling he gets every time he has to hear the annoying sound of his mother's voice. he holds in the tears, the babbling, the feeling of loss and confusion. he holds back every emotion that ever crosses his mind. he tries to stay neutral. he just tries so hard to keep from showing the emotional wreck he is inside. there is nothing about showing those emotions that would help him whatsoever in his quest to be viewed in a more masculine way. 

he can't keep smiling. it's the human default in awkward situations and to him life is one big, awkward situation, but he just can't do it anymore. it's wearing him out more than it has to. the lump in his throat will always be metophorical, never seen by passer-bys, never mistaken for an adam's apple. sometimes that's all he really wants, some sign that he is a real boy. he knows that physically that is impossible to fully be a real boy, but that doesn't mean he'll stop trying. his mind and his soul aren't limited to such standards. 

if his mind were a black-and-white pin-up girl, she would be the red lipstick, that one bit of colour, the one thing that makes it's way to stand out. there is no such thing as blending in being the only bit of colour. the one thing that breaks the routine of boredom. 
boredom. surprising how much it looks like bedroom when he's tired enough. being tired is good, it means that dreams won't have to be waited for for so long. it means that there is a break before doing it all again. 

<3 <3 

every night's like Halloween.

just another night where he can't help but to try to figure out the mystery that is his gender identity. he searches and searches for answers, but there really are no words that encompass all that he is in just the one word. it takes some explaining. 

he watches the world pass by, how they all have it so easy. he watches the girls and the boys in their cis-gendered groups dashing from place to place. he envies them, how they know what they are, how they can focus on the other shit life is throwing their way. they don't think twice about the things they have so easy. they take themselves forgranted. give a straight, cis-gendered child half the difficulties that a queer, trans* or non-bianary child faces and they wouldn't make it. yet they find it easy to make fun, to make the queer child as excluded as they can. it sickens him that things like that could still be happening in the world today. 

ancient Greeks believed straight sex to be selfish, to be forcing the gods to provide a baby. they believed gay sex to be the only pure sex, the only sex fueled by love. in today's society we've seemed to have lost that belief. maybe someday people will regain that belief and the world will be in a better place once again. 

some days he wonders what it would be like to give up and live life the way that society expects him to. what would it be like to wear short shorts and fake tans, to play ditzy and easy, to be a girl who just wants to be saved by a prince. he wonders what it would be like to grow his hair out and do everything in his power to make it shiney and strong. he wonders what it would be like to live in a nation where he could be put to death or to be a victim of "correction rape" just for being who he is. he wonders what it would feel like, having his rights all stripped away, letting is beliefs become overtaken by those of the government for fear of his life. in a way he almost wants to feel their pain, to be able to really, truly understand. many would say he's crazy, but he doesn't feel he can expirience life without having travelled outside a comfort zone. 

<3 <3 

travelling through the stars.

9/11 and the whole world is sitting around remembering. he thinks he should join them, then he remembers how the whole thing has been blown way out of proportion by the wars bush started. he can't help but to hold a bit of a grudge against America for the way they've gone on to just support the war like it will actually make a difference. osama's dead and they're still out there fighting. it's all fucked up and nothings being done to stop the madness. the only good thing that's been done is making the 9/11 memorial to give people a place to come and remember. that's all the people could ask for and it's taken 10 years to make that happen. 

every time he watches tv he ends up seeing the fairy tale couples, the ones where the husband brings home the money and the wife can do anything she pleases. they have nothing to worry about, they can just love each other and have children together and grow old together. he wants to be able to have that, but he knows that any attempt he could have would just be a struggle. he knows he'll have a hard enough time trying to figure out how to live off the odd pennies tossed his way when he manages to do something worth doing. apparently the world doesn't pay much for trying to make a difference. trying to support a family would be beyond what he can comprehend at this point. he'll take one day at a time and hope that somehow it'll all pull together. 

going back to school for another week in the morning, he just doesn't feel ready. the halls don't feel the same, they don't have any sense of welcoming whatsoever. he feels like maybe he's grown out of the way the schools feel, that he's done his time and it's time to move on, yet he's stuck for 10 months. if he was born just a month earlier, he would be done with it all. sometimes he likes to imagine what it would be like if the system didn't exist and each person had the freedom to just follow on a path to figure out themselves and choose which bits of education are relevent to their lives. but the world doesn't work like that and the educational system couldn't care less about the needs of the students. 

<3 <3    

hit the town with brass knuckles.

he wakes up in the morning, excited for that night's events. the whole day he spends preparing, waiting for that first whistle. when he finally gets there everything seems like a dream. he is enchanted by the way the bodies move across the floor. one day he'll be just like them, but for now he can dream about the future, put all his effort into researching the shit out of everything. he will live, breathe, and sleep derby. he really just needs new skates so he can practice like crazy and eventually get good enough to try out in time for when he'll be old enough. there is so much excitement.

there is no booty like a derby girl booty. he isn't even an ass man, but he can still appreciate a nice arse. with the short shorts and fishnets... *drool* one of the many fine reasons to go to a derby bout.

his back hurts more than he could ever imagine. so much cheering and screaming and such has put a strain on him. lying down, he realizes just how much pain he is in. all that he can think of to make it go away is to sleep. he doesn't want to miss a moment of such a beautiful world, but he can't help the fact that he desperately needs some rest. 

confusion is an old enemy, he thought they were done, but now it's back, back to the questioning looks and the long rambles of trying to explain. thus time it's different, this time it's all the same. it doesn't quite make sense, but many a thing doesn't. that's the whole point. 

<3 <3 

baby, break the ice.

just another night
where sentences don't form
without emmense amounts of thought.
the only thing to do
is to think
in poems,
in sound effects,
in stanzas,
in gestures,
in fragments,
in pictures.
but always
outside the box.

<3 <3

my heart is on fire.

he's tired of tears
of the fears
tired of hiding
of being silent.
slowly breaking his back,
the secrets 
he needs to tell
someone,
anyone. 
opening his mouth
nothing
it sticks in his throat
numb,
dumb
he cannot breathe.
he is not a she
he doesn't quite fit
yet
it's closer
than the ze,
the they,
the sounds
of their judgement.
his pronoun: is
he can just be
be human
be alive
be.

the human, when rejecting female, resorts to male. that does not always mean that male is right for that being, just what is left in the temporary uncomfortableness with the female side of human, until the chains are broken. the chains, the boxes, the looks given, writing FEMALE across the being's forehead at every chance given. and they wince, understanding the look, praying for a mistake, living under the lie. male and female, such ugly words, such branded meanings. the rejection of both leads to something more, something pure, something the human can actually feel.

he doesn't want to feel the empty anymore, can't take the way it tears at his heart. so awkward, shuffling around. just another face in another place trying to make it somehow. the sweet tinge of the new day going sour, losing by the second, he chases after it until there is none left. he breathes and smiles, another piece. each bruise is an adventure, the only matter is how they got there and if they made it alive. 

<3 <3 

she's not a girl who misses much.

day two. already he wants to run away. a year ago he was coming home and crying every day, trying to somehow magically go back to tsawwassen. he was terrified to talk to her because she'd either think he's stoopid or everyone would see right through him and realize what had really thought of her. everyone knows now. now the halls are bare, the bustle of people means nothing. the one familiar face he's searching for is nowhere to be seen. he falls into the embrace of those around him, hoping that they'll fit perfectly, but he feels nothing. he cannot seem to find a way to connect with anyone. it scares him, he doesn't want to be without feelings for too long. the numbness and apathy will eat him whole. as will the waiting, waiting for something to happen. 

he digs around, finding old works. flipping through he realizes how much more beautiful life used to be. how much he has always had piles of drama coming his way. he couldn't escape if he tried. 

one more day before shit gets real. he doesn't want to be around for when grade 12 goes into full swing. sometimes he wonders what it would be like to be that guy who dies in grad year, to take up an entire page in the yearbook, to have the entire school care. he almost thinks that would be a better solution. but he'll suffer along, pretending to give a fuck about the bullshit most of his teachers think he's learning, he pretends a lot, fakes the smiles and the laughs. a lot of people don't even bother to notice. they think he really does feel that way about everyone. his eyelids start to close, giving him inspiration of who to be the next day.

<3 <3 

I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello.

he doesn't know if it's a good or bad thing that the butterflies have been attacking his stomach all day. he knows what his heart wants, but his head doesn't know if his heart can take too much more. he thinks his heart and his head have made a mutual decision, now the butterflies ease up a little. his heart pounds, waiting, waiting for the right moment. he wants to make sure that things work out the best they possibly can. 

the smell of coffee won't come out. after showers and washing hands, it still remains. just that tiny tinge that no one else can smell but him. he's afraid to try the coffees, afraid that he'll lose his taste for it and learn to hate his job. he sticks to teas and fruit, staying as safe as he can. first day of tips, it's a slow day for once. at least it'll cover busfair for the way to the bout on Saturday. 

he settles into his skin a little, gets used to all the jokes. he prepares himself for a year of wanting to scream out everyday about how the world is such a cis-sexist place. one last year before the bullshit that is highschool is behind him. he'd be lying if he said he couldn't wait, he'd also be lying if he said he was enjoying it. the only thing keeping him there is fear. he packs away his feelings, ties down his emotions, and braces for one hell of a final drop on the rollercoaster of public school. he fakes a smile, pretending to be in on the jokes, pretending not to want to fight back every time they all start laughing and the expense of the community he calls family. he should stand up and tell them, but that would be too bold. there he sits, one of the girls. they don't even know what lies beneath.

crusified. he feels the nails through his limbs, welcomes their rusty burn. he stares, blank into their eyes filled with passion. their play thing, their puppet, he waits till they sleep. when they sleep, when they least expect it, he pounces. goodbye yellowbrick road. his release, sweeter than any revenge. throughout eternity the soul lives on. 

<3 <3  

screw with your moderation.

just another year, alone. not a soul to connect to, not a person to talk with. he sits on his bed that night, cutting up newspapers, magazines, memories. he watches notebook covers fill with rainbows and queer influences. the spaces between them filled with beautiful little objects. he wants to escape into the world these covers hold, fall into imagination and never make his way out. he feels their confidence and hopes that he can maybe make it last for long enough to make a difference in his day-to-day life. 

this year was his cheapest back-to-school yet. even with that said, he paid for about half of what that was. he looks around and realizes that with all that his family wants to give him in back-to-school crap, he could most likely get to redo his room. no matter which house he's lived in it always looked the same. for at least 5 years. he feels the need for change, to downsize, to let go of the childhood he's leaving behind a little. he's begging for a trip to ikea, to replace the pieces that don't reflect even the smallest bit of his personality. he needs to spend some time clearing everything out so that he can make the space. he would love to get a big comfy chair from the thrift store in, get rid of the bulky dressers taking up more room than ever needed. he gives away more and more, hoping eventually he won't need more than a small suitcase full to keep himself completely content. then he takes a look over at his craft corner and realizes he will always have at least a little excess. 

he vows to go through everything before the new year, to seperate need from maybe want sometime down the road. for once he wants to be organized. he can imagine how much space could be left over if he just reorganized his shit. thinking back he realizes that he never even got a say in where things went in this room, that may be why he absolutely hates the arrangement. he vows to never again move without being in complete control of where every piece of furniture goes, down to the square centimeter. it shouldn't be too hard once he downsizes to just two or three big pieces. 

<3 <3 

I ain't coming back.

it's the last night before the end. it should mean more, he should be out celebrating with the rest, he should be home with the people he's been waiting to celebrate with since grade 8. the only problem is he's not. he actually hates the thought of ever going back to school, especially the one where they won't even let him take a psychology course, won't bother to run a shop to have machanics in. walking in those doors the next morning will feel like conformity, submission. he doesn't know if he can do it. every particle of his being is willing to give up the hope of graduating to let his soul be at peace. if he's going to be learning, it should be learning things that pertain to his life, his future, his interests. instead they try to kill hundreds of birds with one stone. it just isn't working. 

the girls are getting drunk, being sluts, dreaming of the dresses they will get to wear throughout the year. the boys try to prove they can drink the most or plan the best prank. then there's him, alone, the only boi. he dreams of a way to escape the whole thing. they all belong, they all want to be part of something every year before them has been. he watches, hoping one day a few of them will come to their senses and forget about all that bullshit. 

thus begins the final year. he doesn't feel a thing. the list of people he's actually getting to graduate with that he wants to keeps getting smaller and smaller. at this point he has to ask himself if he really wants to go through with it. then he realizes how much he hates the school he has to put up with, realizes the only part that makes it bareable is the very few people he can actually talk to. if he's going to make it this year he's going to need to get back to a school he can somewhat care about. here's hoping he lives to see this day a year from now.

<3 <3 

when I put my finger on your trigger.

the tears are lingering right behind his eyeballs. he wants to break free of this torture they call grad year. he wants to stray far from the formal events and run away from it all. he is forced to stay, so he compromises and agrees to tuxes or suits. they push and push and push. they demand that he wears dresses and plays the female part. he wants to scream, to run, to cry. he can't seem to keep his emotions intact for long enough to follow through with anything. the time is running out, the stakes are getting higher, and the opposition is getting more stubborn. 

even his mother's friends are more into the idea of him being allowed to wear such things. they understand him enough to see the need in his eyes. but then they hear her and they ask him to make her happy for one day. he's spent his entire life trying to make that bitch happy, he wants to do something completely selfish and for himself. he wants to do something in a way he feels comfortable. 

he would be okay with the world ending before he got a chance to do anything if it meant he didn't have to put on a fucking dress and pretend to be an actual girl for no fucking reason. there is that much hatred in his heart for the oppression of the female bodied. 

he doesn't know how to deal with such things. he tries to see the good in humanity and then it just comes back to them calling him such incorrect things. he cringes, he hopes they're talking to someone else, he wants to die.

<3 <3 

I must confess my heart is pounding through my chest.

confession time.

1. my heart's been jumping from person to person for the last 3 years.

2. change scares me more than almost anything else

3. the only thing that scares me more is being alone, even if it's just someone to talk to and hold their hand, it makes me feel complete

4. I try to seem like I know about things when I have no idea. this is most likely because my friends are pretty much all smarter than me...

5. when you start to get to know me I'm just a pervy boi who wants to get in anyone's pants. if you get to know me better you learn I just want to cuddle

6. I find it easier to identify as male because I can't stand being female more, but in actuallity I'm more like third-gendered or agendered.

7. I have no idea what to do after high school. I'm too scared to tell my family about what I'd really like to do so I can't think of anything else I can use as a default.

8. I'm actually not okay with my mom working at my school at all. it's to the point where I'd consider moving out before the end of the year just to get away for a bit. 

9. the only things I'm good at are contradicting myself and being uber queer.

10. sometimes there's a part of my mind that tells me to just stop and go back to being a slut who spends their nights drinking and getting high

11. it feels like all my friends are moving forward and gaining knowledge while I keep making the same mistakes and staying in the same place

12. I still haven't heard a Tegan and Sara song..

13. only a very few people make me feel like I can actually connect with them. I could count these people on one hand, worst part is that will only see one on a regular basis. 

14. I have no clue who I am anymore.

15. I don't know if I'm a cat or dog person.

16. I have almost no gaydar, this means I fall for straight girls or I assume everyone is gay just because they're cute.

17. the first time I tried alcohol I was about 7 or 8. it was sangria and I thought it was juice until I tasted it. I still can't stand the smell of even red wine because of that.

18. I'm scared of my boss.

19. the school system has done nothing for me but break down my self-esteem to a level way below the majority of people's. 

20. crying sounds like a good hobby right now

21. the only place I feel I belong is in public parks or beaches

22. anarchy sounds like the only way a peaceful world could exist

23. smiles are the easiest lies

24. most of the time people I'm physically attracted to and people I have emotional relationships with are the same people. I have to choose, usually resulting in the latter.

25. I'm not okay.

if you like my body and you think I'm sexy.

sometimes it gets a little hard to remember that not everyone feels more comfortable without gender labels or assumptions in sexuality, that in a group of physical females most of them identify as female. they tend to assume that everyone else does too. this is when hanging out with friends and watching a movie turns into a "girls' night". he winces at the word, that he's considered part of it. he's a little more comfortable that he's not the only one who doesn't really want anything to do with gushy, girly movies. he starts to feel a little more at home with this girl around, he missed her. he's starting to worry that he's losing her to drinking and partying. he just doesn't know what to think anymore, too many early mornings for work make his mind shut off.

he doesn't know what he's going to do about coming out at school. people respect that he doesn't give a fuck what others think and is just really open about his supreme queerness, but he feels like he's lying to them, that's not completely who he is. he is so much more than just a sexual minority, he's too fucked up gender-wise to really have a label. 

he feels the weight of yet another day in his bones. every bit of stress and worry he has, has been placed on at once it seems. there's no escape but beneath the covers of the warm pls e they call bed, the sleeping time is important. zzzzzzzzzzz

<3 <3 

strip tease for me, baby.

like any good day, it started with a cup of Brazilian mate. the hours started to flow together at work until he wrapped his hands around the cool plastic of the matcha lemonade he got at the end of his shift. that lasted him a good while, preparing him for dealing with his airhead of a school couseller. the bike rides around town and going off to get groceries and such just got him ready to be needing a cup of jasmine pearl in the coldest day of the week. the day still didn't turn to night, so he managed to get away for a bit and have a cup of tea with a friend.

ladner is quite possibly a very beautiful place when you see it right. he strolled along the back roads, taking in the farmlands in every direction. the sun setting slightly, leaving everything with a frame of bright orange light around the edges. the world seemed like a fantasy that had a slightly realistic feel. there is no better feeling than walking around I such a place with a steaming mug of tea. there's something about taking a mug on a walk with you, the way that it should be kept at home but isn't at that moment, that makes the world so much more beautiful. 

he needs to do something with his mess of a room. everything from all he used to be just jumps out at him, mocking him. it tells him that he will never get a chance to be the person that he feels inside, the way he looks will always indicate what he should represent. he needs to get rid of all the useless shit he doesn't need and make a new name for himself. 

<3 <3 

looking for something dumb to do.

he walks into a tattoo parlor, knowing he's only 5 months shy of being legally allowed his first tattoo. he looks through the books, deciding what he wants where. he has four ideas fully developed in his head. firstly, an inverted pink triangle behind his left ear, followed by either a tattoo or brandification of Orion the hunter on his left shoulderblade. then a broken heart with wings held together by a corset on the inside of his right wrist. lastly, a scattering of stars along the right side of his ribcage. some other ideas have crossed his mind, but nothing else seems like a complete idea yet. he settles for a pair of pink zebra print swirls in 0g as incentive to start taping his ears up to a 0g. he promises himself he'll be back soon to get his industrial done. reluctantly, he lets the door close behind him. 

one night sitting in a place he called his second home for year, seeing it completely changed like all his time there didn't matter, he starts to feel like he understands he's going into grade 12. he feels old. the memories seem so long ago, another lifetime. in reality they were a mere 1-4 years ago. it drives him fucking crazy how he doesn't have somewhere to just belong anymore; he misses hanging out and knowing that at least he had somewhere to get the fuck away from his mother for awhile.

the teachers gave 72hour strike notice. he's starting to panic. he is somewhat terrified of change in large quantities, even a lot of small changes. not having school for a couple weeks or so at the very beginning of the school year is sure to send him spiralling. this is grade 12, the year that really counts and of course this is the year they decide to strike. he doesn't quite know what to do anymore. 

<3 <3