bootpupblr

no one talks about how much of a fight it is to be butch. i want to say it came naturally but it didn’t. because I spent an entire lifetime learning to be the kind of woman my parents could be proud of and when they weren’t I tore myself apart from the inside looking for love in every corner of the world and came up empty handed. but I remember the first moment I ever felt I could breathe. I sat in a barber’s chair. my hair still wet from the cut. spiky remnants of my mother’s pride clinging to my neck and my cheeks. I remember the gravel of the barber’s voice as he said “stop that now you’re gonna make me cry” when I told him I had been holding my breath my entire life. I’d been holding it in right up until the moment I felt his clipper on the back of my neck.

“I am looking respectfully” “im so normal about this” can you bark actually? Can you hit yourself over the head w a frying pan like a cartoon wolf? Can you look at it derangedly please?

sorry for being so submissive that it gives you the mindset of a feral predator desperate to fuck and hurt me but like.. someone’s gotta do it yknow

the butch that likes to be called daddy will save you