god

What's it like to breathe? I haven't known the feeling since I was nine years old.

Two years ago, I went to the cottage with my friend. It was magic. We hadn't talked in a while (years) and we hadn't actually seen each other for even longer, but we clicked again like we were never apart.

This year, a lot happened. I didn't think I changed that much. But I guess I kinda did, in a way. And maybe my friend did too, because it isn't the same anymore. I think we lost the magic.

Don't come near me right now.

I'm not safe right now.

This isn't good right now.

I want to be alone right now.

But you didn't let me have that. I wasn't granted the luxury of an air tank. I don't get to breathe.

So if I can't be alone, at least be quiet. The thoughts in my head are so loud and your noise doesn't even begin to drown it out. It doesn't work that way.

If you won't grant me solitude, at least give me silence.

Please.

I drank shitty lemonade to get the metal taste out of my mouth but all I taste now is sour tea leaves.

Why won't you fucking listen?! I'm not a child. I'm more mature than half of the people your age. I'm better than them. I'm better than that.

Listen to me. Respect me. Hear what I'm saying. Get it through your thick fucking skull.

I'm an equal. It's not fair. They're not as good as me. I'm fucking better.

You can't do that. You can't have it every fucking way.

You can't say we aren't equal and also say that neither of us is better or worse than the other. That isn't how it works.

I'm better. I'm better than all of them. I'm young, not stupid. I'm the best. I'm a god. I'm holy. They're nothing. They're nothing compared to me.

I am god. I am better.

I am better.

In my dreams we live together and we have a soft bed pushed up against the window and I lay my head in your lap while you do whatever and I fall asleep like that with your hand in my hair.

Life would be perfect if I could come home and wrap my arms around your waist and lay down together on the couch while something plays on the TV and we eat junk food.

I just wanna lay my head on your shoulder from behind you while you talk to people when we go out. I wanna be big and scary but soft for you.

I hope that we find each other in every life because you're my favorite person and you've never hurt me and god you make me feel so perfect. Everything is easier with you.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

I love you.

I've never felt this way about someone before and I get so scared thinking about it sometimes because this feeling is so new and so good and good things never end well for me so please don't let me let us drift apart.

Don't let me ruin it. Tell me everything. Remind me that you're my favorite person if I forget. Don't let me ruin this. Don't let me forget this feeling. I don't want to forget this feeling. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose us.

There isn't a single word in any language that can describe how much you mean to me. You're everything. You make me want to fix my insides just so I can be perfect for you.

How could anyone hate you? I can't imagine.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

You're perfect.

I remember your smile and I can feel the sun in my chest.

I can't believe you're mine.

I'm so glad I'm yours.

AI creation disgusts me. You can't type words into a machine and call it art. You can't feed information into a robot and call what it spits out writing.

Art is creativity. The act of creation. You didn't create anything. You put synthetic bone dust into a computer and call the imitation of a creature that came out the other end a living being. It's not even alive.

Part of the art is the process. There was no process. You didn't do anything. You call that lump of flesh a person? That's not even a mutt.

Since the beginning of time art has been a sacred and honoured act that was valued beyond belief, and you dare to mock that with your soulless pieces of "work"?

AI art isn't accessible. Every time you AI generate an image it ruins thousands of resources. For nothing. For less than nothing.

Beethoven was deaf and he's regarded as one of the best musicians in history. He couldn't even hear and he made sound. You're telling me you are of able body and mind, yet you can't even pick up a pencil or download a drawing app and make a circle? That's pathetic.

People made art with anything they could find. Cavemen drew with mud and organic paints they made using flowers and fruits and berries and rocks. You can't go out to the store and buy a paint set for two bucks?

I was in science class. Second period. Two (2) minutes before class was supposed to end. This girl was chatting with some other people. They were laughing and hanging out, talking. Like every day. Like normal.

The phone rang and the teacher went to answer it. I barely even noticed. It was so normal, far out of my mind at the time. The teacher calls out to the girl, it's for her. The teacher makes a joke about how she's so popular. I don't really remember. I noticed now, but barely.

I look away. I don't think about it. It's probably nothing. People get phone calls like that all the time. I know I have. But then something happened.

The girl is crying. Shes upset. Really upset. The class is quieter now. Everyone is watching. Nobody says anything.

The teacher goes up to her and comforts her. She asks what's wrong. She takes the phone. The person on the other line explains what the issue is, I guess, because she seems to understand and she hangs up. She comforts the girl and says it's going to be okay. She tells her to go somewhere during lunch and find a quiet space.

The girl agrees, and goes to get her stuff. The phone rings again. The teacher picks it up again. She tells the girl that someone was removed from the premises. She relaxes.

It's strange, how quickly people can go from one emotion to another.

A day later, we had a lockdown. It was a mistake, ultimately, but nobody knew that at the time.

When I was hiding in a science classroom full of people I didn't know, I wondered how she was feeling. Her world was turned upside-down by a simple phone call with the prospect of someone being on school grounds just the other day, I can't imagine how much she must've been panicking when she thought the person might've been actually inside the school.

I mean, I was scared for my life and I didn't have anyone out to get me specifically. I was already mentally writing out my will. She had an even bigger reason to worry.

It's been a week or so now. She seems okay. I see her next period. I don't think I'll ever know what she went through, but I hope she's okay. I'm scared for her sometimes.

Did I mention she's my age? She's nice and funny. Smart, too. She has a lot of friends. She's friends with a girl from my old school who was one of the only people who wasn't a massive jerk. I think that's proof enough that she's a good person.

I was sitting in the hall, waiting for my math teacher to come out and help me. We set up a meeting, you know. I had failed a test and went for math help so I could better understand the material. Whatever. I've never been a math person.

I guess someone else failed their test too, because I hear someone else getting stressed over a test. They're talking to their friend like normal.

I'm not really listening. It's whatever, I have other stuff to worry about (evidently).

And then their friend says something.

"Your entire life is not defined by a single test."

And yeah, it's mundane and obvious and people say stuff like that all the time, but it sticks.

I've never been academically obsessed. I try to do well, but if I fail a test? As long as my average is above 50%, it's not a big deal.

But I know people who obsess over every little grade. Every number. Every mark.

"Your entire life is not defined by a single test."

It's true. It isn't. Sure, your grades now decide your university or college, and your education there decides your job in the future, and your job decides quality of life, etcetera etcetera.

But those are just numbers. It's just numbers.

Marks, tests, averages, college acceptance rates, university graduate success rates, wadge, raises, promotions, money.

Everything is just a number. It doesn't actually mean anything.

it's difficult for me to tell the difference between intense platonic feelings and romantic feelings partially because of this, I think. people describe romantic attraction as like the most you can feel for someone, and that isn't true for me.

i love my friends. i love a lot. i love with my entire being, yknow? and its not romantic, its just love.

im glad the greeks had a bunch of words for it, because it makes everything a whole lot easier. like no im not romantically in love with them, its platonic. i love my brother but not like /that/, ew.

i just love a lot.

My teeth aren't sharp enough, and I can't stop biting my nails, and there's a rats nest made out of my hair.

My skin isn't perfect, there's a scar on my back, and moles all over my arms.

There are stretch marks on my thighs and I've pierced my ears twice, only once have I had lice, but this body just isn't mine.

I wish I had teeth like a dog and claws like a dragon and hair like a mermaid.

I wish that my skin was made of silky soft porcelain, and my back was free of scars, and my arms didn't have moles.

I wish my thighs hadn't stretched and my ears pierced the first time and I never had lice even once.

I loathe me so much but these imperfections are mine and I can't live without them, so they stay.

I don't belong to this flesh, but it belongs to me, and the person I look at in the mirror is mine.

They aren't me, but they're the same, and we both love each other too much to go, so we stay.

They're like a sibling to me, but they aren't me. This flesh is mine as in it belongs to me, not as in it is a reflection of myself.

You get mad when I yell, but I only screamed because you acted like you didn't hear me. I think that says more about you than it does me.

You call yourself a hero for vanquishing what you call a villain, but I'm human too. How is it fair to vilify me just because I'm not the same as you? I was raised on revolution and dystopian stories of heroes and revolutionaries, fighting oppressive systems and hurting people who want to hurt them more. I was raised on this, and you expect me not to fight back and stand my ground?

You gave me so little space to exist, and I am fighting tooth and nail to create more. You seem to forget, I'm not pushing back, I'm making space. I deserve this. I deserve to live.

I am a person and an artist and a child and a sibling and a friend and a fan and a lover. I like stories and music and shopping and painting and singing and musicals.

I am not less than you for being different than you. I am not a sinner. I am not unholy. I am not unclean. I am a product of my own love and resistance. My own perseverance and design. I have earned my place by existing in this space, and I do not deserve less than you.

You hate me because I exist. I hate you because you want me dead. My survival is not the same as your need for power. I was born for the purpose of living, and my fighting for that purpose cannot be compaired to your large existence, wanting more than you need and taking all you can get your hands on.

You see what you want, hear what you want, and take what you want. That is not something I should be punished for.

I do not deserve to suffer. I deserve to be loud and big and alive and a person. I don't deserve pain just because you say I'm less.

I am allowed to be me. And you cannot stop it.

(This is about politics)

[STORY UNDER THE CUT]