I need a nap

- I remember 2016 as being the worst year of my fucking life, in ways it’s gonna be hard to beat and the universe better not fuckin try

- since 2016, I’ve gotten a degree in a field that I love, been in a toxic relationship, had a toxic relationship end, been in a kind but ultimately not what we wanted relationship, had that end too, been single for a while, learned I’m trans, started hrt, gotten in a different lovely proudly queer relationship which I’m very happy in, made friends, lost friends, mourned friends, made new friends, gotten a job I liked, made manager, quit, got another job that lets me do a bit of good in the world, gotten top surgery, travelled, swam shirtless in the warm sea, written half a dozen zines and a poetry chapbook, performed poetry, accepted I’m probably never gonna make a career out of poetry alone, gone on and off and on again various mental health treatments and hopeful that this one will stick for as long as it needs to, walked probably a thousand or more cumulative miles wearing through the soles of half a dozen or more boots, laughed, cried, rested, collapsed from fatigue, crawled back out again

- if I could reach back to the kid making this post… buddy, I’m not gonna say it’ll all be alright, because that’s pat and trite and diminishes the very real struggles of growing. But we cut our hair and change our name and grow a beard and we’re not Quite out of the shitty little hometown but we’re getting there. I think you’d like the jumper I’m wearing. I saw mcr live and I know you’d kill me with jealousy for it. I took you with me, as much as I could. I still think you’ve got great taste in movies, and I’ve got some new recs for you.

- I now have 4 tattoos! None of them are the ones I thought I’d have, but that’s okay. The first one is not an art style I’d choose today but the design holds a ton of meaning for me, and always will, and I don’t regret it. The other 3 are a more cohesive art style - maybe I could have changed the placement or tweaked some details, but I don’t need to, they’re part of me now and they’re beautiful for it. I’m excited to get more and to live long enough to reflect on them like this again and again and again

- 25 felt impossibly old to you. Right now it feels both impossibly old and impossibly young. I’m glad I got to see what it brought me, even the shit parts

Same thing happened when I got into fighting. I got even stronger, and I got *fast*, man, and nimble, like a cat. Still chubby.

Body-building culture is a bunch of crap, my dude. Functional muscle is not necessarily toned or lean. You can be swole as hell and still be heavy. And that’s cool.

And every damn one of those huge shredded motherfuckers has the endurance of a fucking newborn puppy. Fifteen minutes into warmups and they’re panting for air like like they’re about to die. I’ve sparred them and every one of them telegraphs their moves about two weeks in advance, and are slower than my dead grandpa because their huge useless muscles get in the damn way. 

Now. I also work with a couple of guys who are not weightlifters. They do, however, do very physical jobs and are Big Dudes. Picture this sort of build. 

No abs to speak of, a bit of a tummy, and those motherfuckers can pick up one of the weightlifters and throw them. 

And they’re fast. Like, unfair fast. 

So, I ride a motorcycle and I know at least the theory of doing a power slide (still cool but you don’t slide nearly so much and you need a pretty light bike to do it most of the time). You have to lock the back wheel until your back wheel looses grip on the road and then turn sharply to the left. Rear wheel slides and the front wheel turns.

But how do you lock the back wheel you might ask? Well with your rear break of course.