Michael

I was flashed and almost forced into showing someone else my body in first grade. I went to my favorite mother figure of a teacher and all she said was “it was two days ago. I can’t do anything about it now.” And ignored me.

They don’t tell you that breaking up means you still have to remember every sweet and committed thing they said to you. That you still remember the tiniest details they mentioned about themselves. That seeing them find someone else and randomly unfollow you will feel like heartbreak all over again. And not because you want to date them, no, you both aren’t the same people anymore, but because if they were once your other half, what could they think of you now? Did they realize they hate you? Were you never good enough? Do they have the same kind of respect for the spot in their life you held that you have for them? No matter how much you want closure, you know the answer. You were just apart of another story in their crazy life and when they decide to move on, you are fully left in the past. Nothing more than a memory. Someone who was once there there.

Going to work to be like “Hi I’m girl!” “Hi I am indeed a maam and very approachable!” “Hi I’m so girl it’s crazy!” “Hi I’m just your average girl!” “Hi there is nothing confusing about my femininity!”

I understand why people become English teachers and why conservatives worry about indoctrination.

I think my favorite time of the day is when I’m falling asleep and can’t feel anxious.

‘Making mistakes is normal and human, at least you try to grow and be a better person after every one!’ BUT THE GUILT IT CLAWS AT ME IT SAYS I ALWAYS MESS UP. FOREVER DOOMED TO MESS UP AND BE A BAD PERSON BECAUSE I AM NATURALLY A BAD PERSON. RELEASE ME.