This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot for quite a while now and I finally feel coherent and confident enough to talk about it. For a while my gender identity has been in a state of flux and while I haven’t really talked about it at all, I haven’t felt comfortable identifying with either cis-ness or maleness for several months now. I wanted to make sure to myself first and foremost that what I was feeling wasn’t just an attempt to deny my privileges, or distancing myself from cis maleness because being identified with those privileges made me uncomfortable. I’ve done my very hardest to check myself but after a lot of internal debate and particularly a couple of recent interactions, it’s becoming more and more apparent that my continued identification as a cis male was out of a desire to acknowledge my privileges in presenting/being read as a cis male (a lot of which I do so as not to lose my job) rather than an accurate reflection of how I feel. And I don’t really think it’s fair to do that to myself anymore. I still don’t know how to identify, whether non-binary is who I am, it’s all still messy and I’m trying to figure out and articulate a lot of things about myself that I’ve never really talked about or looked at.

I guess I just wanted to talk about this and let you guys know, since my Tumblr friends are pretty dear to my heart and I know you guys are gonna be on board with this. I’m still fine with “he/him” pronouns, and if anything I prefer them based on habit, but I’ll let you guys know if anything changes on that front. Mostly I’d really like if you guys stop making reference to me as a man or a boy (unless it’s in visual contexts since “messy skater boy” is my main aesthetic), and trust that I am still checking and acknowledging myself, and be patient with me while I work through this. Thank/I love you.

PS if you have questions feel free to shoot them over but I’d prefer if you ask off anon thank you

(Source: 17yr, via 90sgothwinona-deactivated201404)


Asking for the attention you need and deserve is not attention-seeking.
Your sadness and anger as valid as your happiness, both as emotions and signals to be expressed to those around you.


 &does it hurt yo u,     a(ngel),
     to know 
     my hands are k niv e s

when your hands are mountains that i
  have made steeper      (with or without)
     than this
 bre  a thl esss

broken english
when my mother struggles to spell a word in english
I want to break the entire language
into little pieces
so the edges of these letters
will stop cutting her

— aysha via Diaspora Defiance
(via decolonizehistory)

(via graylees)

there’s a well
in the place where they grew up
where the water tastes sweet
   (she knows)
  like honey,
  like honey


Hey Loyal Followers, I’m going to be in Sydney this weekend starting tonight if anybody wants to hang out!!! (except not tonight because I’m going to a party but yeah hmu yo)

dearest  dearest
  i’d set the world on fire to
        make you smile

heat mirages from the california that never was

we drove down to the flatlands near the airport and spent the whole
night watching planes take off. she said she was tired. i was too.
we weren’t sad. we were tired of godlessness. we looked for heaven
together in a cluster of clouds and the body of a celestial 747 
fuselage, silver and long and perfect perfect. up above the planes
glimmered past. everything was close and loud. the 4:43 to calgary
sounded like the first time we kissed in the rain. the 5:02 from
buenos aires felt like the flesh being torn from my ribs. it was
somewhere out there watching the sun come up that i finally and
fully realized that we were both going to die. we lay there and the
heat took us and kissed us and moved us so riverly down into itself,
into myself, into ourself, into the scars and vicious burns that we’d
wrapped ourselves in, into the morning, the smell of the morning, of
maccas breakfast in the morning eaten silently with hands held and
mouths crooked and the two of us broken up into a million million
pieces that not all the king’s horses or men could figure out where
we’d fallen.

    she told me that nothing we’d ever done or said really
    mattered at all, that we didn’t know anything important,
    not of ourselves or of each other, that we’d been born
    lonely, that we’d been lonely from the moment we left
    our mothers’ wombs, that we’d stumbled and fucked through
    our whole lives without knowing anyone at all. she told me
    this through her silence, her not-speaking, the most
    voluminous conversation i’d ever held. talking to each
    other every day for years and years and finding ourselves
    suddenly at a loss to come up with a single reason to stay, 
    feeling my skin pressed against her whale bone cheeks and
    i’ve never felt so fucking small. a plane full of humans
    looking for love passed by low over our heads. i prayed
    for their safe return.

          it didn’t hurt at all that day or on any
          of the days after. it never really hurt
          at all. we were just imagining it all this
          time and we were secretly happy all along.
          we’d beaten ourselves up about how fucked
          up we felt, asking to be fixed when we
          weren’t even broken. i apologized anyway.
          it’s not that hard. we could’ve known each
          other, if we had the years. maybe when the
          world is smaller again. they never found
          where we fell, our trajectories or exit

                     we were moth wings,
                     we were kindling,
                     we were the way stars
                     twinkle and fade
                     just before dawn


                     destroy me wholly i
                     am filled with fire
                     i cannot hold i wan
                     t to tear into myse
                     lf i do not want to