(head feels like it’s shifted into a noticeably “masculine” space as an effect of wearing that grey coat around everywhere. i think i have to start bringing, like, skirts back into rotation if i want to feel “normal” again, which is to say, if i want my stream of thoughts to stop feeling endlessly “snarky” in a way that does in my heart feel attributable to the grey coat
one could call this negotiation a bit cool & fluid & queer but only insofar as it occurs with respect to a self-perception that would seem in the first place to be gendered to a point of embarrassment, i mean, having my brain affected by a coat)
picks up a jar containing the parenthesized thoughts floating in formaldehyde & inspects it closely… hmm well is it really that bad to be snarky sometimes, what’s the problem
whats cool about being trans is my parents are totally right. i did kill their beautiful son. im the thing that animates his corpse in an ever more convincing parody of a happy girl. i devoured him from the inside out and now there is nothing left of him and he is dead dead dead and there is only me, with my hollow eyes and dark eyeliner and long hair, and my big smile. my limp, effeminate gestures belie the marionetting of the boy they loved. my fagginess is his death. already his body becomes a fitter home for my parasitism in full; the tits, the hips, the thighs. sorry about your kid. thanks for the biomass <3
Dropping by to say that Magnolia is very Gender. That is all, have a good day.
Ideal. Fuck yeah
Unfriendly reminder that while you're busy mourning the loss of your childs old gender, claiming you need to mourn the death of your son/daughter, there's a group of boys/girls/enbies scrambling to take your kid clothes shopping, snatching up the chance to take those "first" experiences from you forever. Your sons first fishing trip is gonna be with his best bros, your daughters first makeover is going to be with her girl friends, your kids first camping trip out as themselves is gonna be with the besties. Good luck getting those bonding experiences back. While you're busy trying to guilt-trip your kid with your weird manufactured parental trauma, there's a whole community ready to take your place as the better family.
Your loss, someone elses gain.
joy!
My relationship with mirrors has been a real rollercoaster over the past year and half or so. Don’t get me wrong, I can still absolutely rip my reflection to metaphorical shreds on a bad day. But more often I find myself passing by the mirror and liking what I see more than I ever have before.
We’re in a better place now, me and reflective surfaces.
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