stomachaches.

seeing young trans men saying how they feel so “validated” by people telling them to kill themselves because “at least they see me as a man” is actually so fucking sad. 15 year old trans boy you do not deserve to be treated like a monster because of the words you use for yourself and the goals you have for your body. you do not need to accept this kind of treatment from your own community in order to prove that you’re not a threat. you are a person. you are a person

i dunno i feel like it's more complicated than that

“It’s clearly fetish content” YAY!!!!!

I'm not even kidding it's so clear that everyone sees black people and especially black women as some sort of alternate species. I'm getting into doll collection & customization videos because I've been getting into collecting myself and toys and art are supposed to bring me happiness and even there I can't escape the anti blackness. Like... you're lucky if you find a character or doll that's consistently brown skinned and carefully designed in popular brands. Collectors will always favor light skin or fantasy colors anyways. I had to watch a white creator call a custom Garnet doll "dummy thicc" and describe her in progress proportions as "female rappery" why couldn't you just have said curvy? You're not funny or cool and I'm very tired

one time I went over to a friend's house and their housemate was making paper in the living room, and we saw this big tub full of water they were using to dissolve old scrap paper into a slurry, and everyone was immediately like "oh, you need scrap paper?" and started turning out their jacket pockets and producing expired coupons and bus tickets and crumpled receipts and old shopping lists and whatever else they'd been carrying round with them for no good reason, and passing it all to the paper-making housemate to make sure it was suitable before it got torn up and dropped into the tub, while people took turns stirring the slurry with a big wooden stick. it was strangely ritualistic, like presenting an offering to some kind of temple elder for inspection before placing it in a watery shrine to be devoured and reformed. pulp for the pulp god.

We spent about two hours going through all the art my mom saved from my school days, down to preschool. The highlight was definitely the lovely painting of flowers I drew in second grade that had the scene of the crucifixion on the vase, complete with Mary and Joseph weeping underneath him.

Can you believe my mom wanted to throw this out.

you know those studies showing that cursing helps with pain tolerance or whatever. that’s how i feel about making my weird little noises to get through my basic daily activities. sometimes you just have to go hggblaaaah for a minute so you can find the strength within yourself to get up or wash the dishes or send an email. mmmnneh. urgh. the torments are unending but you can always make some little sounds about it.