808BisexualBitch

-What's happening to me? How do I know these things? Am I going crazy? -No. Never let anyone convince you of that.

And it gives that question a name and a physical presence and a weight and an aesthetic and a horror. It's like TV static. It's like falling asleep on the car ride home. It's like living with a light inside you crawling to get out. It's like suffocating to death. It follows that thought to its logical conclusion and, in a frankly extremely painful and hard-to-watch but deeply needed way, excruciatingly draws out what that looks like. Suspended animation. Stasis. A life that is not your life.

that moment when you're watching it as a trans person, and every cell in your body is begging her to not stop, to not run away, please please please. you need to see it more than you've needed anything. and then she does. she sees everything inside herself in a bathroom all alone where we've all been, and she closes it all up, her emaciated and sickly body barely holding her up, and she walks back into an arcade room apologizing for her outburst to a building full of people who refuse to see or hear her.

"I found my heart, Isabel. I found yours too. And it was still beating."