crowley

We were at pride together and because we don't really talk that much anymore there was a lot to talk about and she was giving me updates about her situationship/almost relationship. And while i was under the assumptions that he's a man because that was the last thing i knew she vaguely updated me at some point that they're not a man. And I was like non-binary, got it. We are not gonna talk about the way that she told me that they're non-binary because it literally requires me to ask 354 follow-up questions because she's not capable of not constantly beating around the bush (but that's a her problem and not the key point here). Anyway, I am informed that said person is non-binary and prefers no pronouns (just their name (which for privacy reasons I'm not gonna share and also we don't know each other personally so that would be weird in my opinion, hence the they/them pronouns)).

And frankly, I was astonished by the amount of ignorance my friend showed, by not even trying one fucking time to use their pronouns. It took me another question to figure out their chosen name, yet she used the he/him pronouns like it was nothing. And I get it, she said that herself, using they/them in German is already a bit weird and only using one's name can be uncomfortable and distrub your speaking rhythm and they didn't know each other that long so it might be new to her bla bla bla. I don't accuse her of being transphobic or anything because I know she's not but her blatant refusal of even trying was...yeah. And it hit especially close because I know that's how other people talk about me as well. I'm never blaming people who don't know I go by all pronouns but the fact that none of my friends besides my one close friend give a shit about trying to use different pronouns for me is a bit disappointing. I often try to justify this by thinking I didn't declare it enough it, but is seems to work just fine for them when talking about a transfeminine mutual we have.

Frankly, your laziness is pissing me a bit off. Even when yes, technically you are using the correct pronouns for me but you can't go around calling yourself a woke leftist when you treat me just like an average woman and treat your situationship like a man by calling them constantly the wrong pronouns and using their chosen name ONCE.

babes, that's not how it's gonna work.

Mein Rachen brennt von den selbstgedrehten Kippen mit Mentholfilter. Meine Freundin hat Recht, der Geschmack ist besser als bei normalen Filtern. Eigentlich rauche ich ja auch nicht aber dieser Abend hat danach geschrien. Drei Getränke intus im Laufe der Nacht und aus den Boxen kommt romantischer Kuschelrock, es ist fast schon klischeehaft. Irgendwo zwischen den Zeilen und den Antifa Stickern auf der Bartoilette verliebe ich mich wieder. In Stuttgart, in Freundschaften, in den Sommer. Ich schreibe während mir die kalte U-Bahn Luft der U5 im Nacken sitzt und ich gehe nur heim weil ich gehen muss, nicht weil ich will, denn es ist schließlich die letzte Bahn die ich erwischen kann. Er und ich saßen nebeneinander, natürlich taten wir das. Ich schiele auf sein Handydisplay, er öffnet Chats von denen ich stark vermute, dass sie von Hinge sind. Ich schaue weg. Wir spielen ein Trinkspiel mit unserer kleinen Freundesgruppe und ich bin dankbar dafür, denn ich hab schon lang nicht mehr so gelacht, vor allem nach den Klausuren war das Balsam für die Seele. Unsere Knie berühren sich, dann unsere Arme und ich rücke nicht weg, ich habe keine Scham. Kann man noch einmal einfach fucking delusional bleiben? Ich schnorre mir diesmal nichts von seiner Kippe, ich widerstehe der Versuchung auch wenn er im Gegenzug an meinem Getränk zieht um zu Probieren als wäre es eine Selbstverständlichkeit. Drei von drei Malen stehen wir zusammen am Tresen zum Getränke bestellen und mir fehlten schon lange nicht mehr so die Worte wie in diesem Moment. Ein kleines bisschen unausgesprochenes Etwas hängt in der Luft aber vielleicht bin das auch nur ich oder die schwüle Juli Luft. Ich bin hammered von dem Alkohol den ich hatte und so unfassbar nostalgisch, dass ich kotzen will. Es läuft "Every Breath You Take" von the Police und er stöhnt auf, während der Rest von uns sich darüber freut, auch wenn es nicht zum Vibe des Abends passt. Bevor wir gehen läuft noch the Smiths und irgendwie fast die Vielfalt der Musik den gesamten Abend zusammen. Es passt zu den Bänken die eingelassene Murmeln in ihrer Lehne haben, an denen wir die ganze Zeit rumspielen. Es passt zum Mullet-tragenden Barkeeper und unserer bunt gemischten Truppe an einem Juli Abend in der Stuttgarter Innenstadt. Über uns scheint der Vollmond als wir die Bar verlassen und wir stehen in der Königsstraße vor dem rappelvollen McDonalds. Die drückende Hitze hat uns auch jetzt noch nicht verlassen und es ist bereits kurz vor 1.

Wie auch immer.

Als wir uns vor der U-Bahn verabschieden sagt er "wir sehen uns in ..." (keine privaten Infos über meinen Aufenthalt auf Tumblr) und ich weiß immer noch nicht, ob er es ernst meint oder nicht. Wahrscheinlich ändert sich seine Meinung sowieso spontan, so wie immer. Es juckte mich in den Fingern zu sagen, dass ich keine Frau bin, als wir bei dem Trinkspiel anfingen zu gendern - ein Schluck für die Männer, ein Schluck für die Frauen. Ich lache leise als ich immer wieder daran erinnert werde, wie ich gelesen werde. Aber ich mache es irgendwo auch gerne, also als Frau zu performen, und in dieser Nacht fühle ich mich auch connected zu meiner Womanhood. Wenn ich nur nicht so gottlos schwitzen würde in meiner Feinstrumpfhose und meinem Rock.

Was weiß ich.

It's like trying to hug a rosebush, it's beauty wonderful to look at, yet painful. An animal is sitting on my chest. It is a big dog, the ones with round eyes and wide mouths with drops of saliva hanging from their teeth. I try to tell it to go away but we seem to speak different tounges.

Some things just never loose their weight, friendships that I still mourn and people that I once loved (or thought I had loved). In the heat of the summer they crawl back and sit on my bedside at night, stroking my hair, caressing me at places I don't want to. Their presence catches me off guard sometimes because I thought I had let go. What more can I do than wishing to let go of them entirely?

i know you don't like me. at least not as much as i like you. or maybe you do but even if that were true it would not matter.

i like us more as a concept and not as something tangible. i like the promise it gives me, a thinnly veiled possibility, fragment, thought of something that could be. i find it ironic that this is happening in the summertime because shit always seems to go down in summer. and i try to grasp for something non-existing in the thick humid summer air that gives me headaches. i hate when you find way into my dreams, i want to eliminate every thought about you i have, yet i let myself busk in the bits of attention i receive because it gives me the illusion of being wanted.

to speak - but honestly i can't do that so i'll let the thoughts claw at my insides until i am hollow and there is nothing left of me but the flesh i call mine

Not that I dislike it but something about the ending was so tragic and I had such mixed feelings in the beginning. I obviously cried a LOT and was devastated - then I thought the actors and directors were doing their best with the mess that they were met after S2 (and I still think that) - but a part of me has grown to disdain the ending so badly that I wish S3 as well as S2 had never existed. Probably not that deep at all but just a thought that has been pondering my mind lately since I rewatched edits I used to save on social media shortly after the release in may.

I fear I am clinging onto a passion that I can merely call a passion let alone talent. For someone that calls writing and journaling his hobby I am surprisingly uninterested and not commited to all of this. I cannot focus on one genre, everything I "write" is basically a more elaborate form of my diary, formatted to fit the tumblrl or substack layout. I lack emotional depth to write complex stories, I don't have a SINGLE own character let alone anything original. I do not even care enough about creating an OC. Somehow it has never felt necessary or something I find enjoyable. I have deleted drafts from my earliest writing process when I was around 12/13. I can never seem to finish my fanfiction and somehow stop when I don't find the motivation anymore or when I run out of ideas.

This might sound so silly and stupid because "it is just a show bla bla". No actually this has saved me on multiple levels and I don't know who I would be without all of this.

Aromantic in a way that I don't understand traditional relationships and the idea of longterm commitment like marriages frighten me but I can develop romantic attraction towards people and crave some form of connection (either in a QPR or something else);

Asexual in a way that I can never engage in sex in any form but I fully understand why people engage in it - it's just not for me

Bisexual in a way that I like people on multiple levels, often with different types of attraction (aesthetic, romantic etc.) between different genders.

Genderfluid/Agender in a way that I don't understand the concept of gender all together and I am not really bound to one certain gender and I wish I wouldn't be perceived as any gender at all but rather as a concept.