diary of a nobody. agender / they

this past month i was bedbound for about 2 weeks, it’s a long story but i had a lot of time trying not to go stir crazy.

i just saw a video of starving cats eating the bodies of dead palestinian children in gaza & as desensitized as i thought i’d become, this bore another hole in my chest. i’ve had these conversations with people in real life, i’ve changed at least two people’s minds from supporting israel to being disgusted with them, i don’t really know what else i can do. it’s hard to just exist in a time where all your happiness is tainted with guilt, guilt at your privilege, guilt for every time you neglect to feel gratitude for how good you really have it, guilt at your powerlessness. a time where the balance between caring about world issues & keeping yourself from drowning in hatred & cynicism, is almost impossible to find. a time where it doesn’t even fucking matter whether you look overseas or in your own country, or your neighbour’s, everything is fucking shit. i don’t want to hear so much of this that i can’t live my life, that i lose my fucking mind understanding that money & power make the world go round, & that’s fucking it. i also don’t want to become desensitized. that’s what they want. i don’t want to ignore the voiceless & the oppressed. i don’t want to take my privilege or my safety for granted. sometimes i feel like they’re observing how much we can take as a society without breaking down. how much collective trauma we can endure while still functioning day to day. & sometimes i feel like their goal is for the whole world to know they rape, kill & eat children & we either look away, convince ourselves that our own eyes & ears lie, or hate ourselves & each other for not being able to do anything.

i feel very queer but not queer enough

i can’t really explain it, every day just feels like i’m staring down two different roads, one that makes me the happiest i’ve ever been, it’s short lived & it kills me in the end. the other has all my loved ones’ expectations riding on it. it’s boring, every day hurts, i don’t get to control my feelings & i don’t get to escape the hard ones. it’s stable, i get time with the people i love & i continue to make the best of the cards i’ve been dealt, but it’s hard. it’s so fucking hard. sometimes it feels like the longest, most agonizing death ever. sometimes i don’t see anything good in it & the only thing that keeps me there is imagining how much i’d hurt them if i left. i don’t like to feel like my decisions are controlled or influenced. i don’t like to feel like i’m alive & sober for anyone else but myself. but the fact of the matter is most days i don’t care about myself enough to find my own reasons. to try. to endure. i spend them on autopilot fantasizing about a bag, a bat, a rolled up 20 or my hands shaking while i look for a vein. watching the sun rise & set over & over & over until i feel like i’m literally losing my mind.