#ontohope

Not because im anti all transx terms, im very neutral leaning pro on all nonharmful ones, but because honestly? 1 i dont like the sound, transx sounds so clunky to me... 2 the community itself holds alot of negative memories with me, and unfortunately does trigger me due to that and 3 i think it's a better descriptor for how it feels to us,

so take a nonofficial coining post, I might make another post later on that includes a flag, but here's a little definition

Ontohope - An Identity referring to the hoping/longing of something your being - that being your physical body, or your identity - does not have. This can be nearly anything.

Ontohope does not claim the user IS that thing, however experiences a longing to be, and in cases where appropriate, would like to transition to such thing. Ontohope also supports all types of dysphoria, but not all types of transitions.

Ontohope doesn't include folk who want to transition to things that would be harmful for them or others, but instead is pro-healing from such feelings, and finding alternatives to relieve dysphoria. ( example . Cane User Ontohope would be reccomended to getting a walking stick, preferably bought from a thrift store/nonmedical shop, but discouraged taking medical resources nor harming themselves to transition ).

X Ontohope = used to specify what the user long for. ( Example . We are Love Ontohope, we hold a longing to be the concept of love. )

im very curious as to what others thing of this, so feel free to tell me if you like it 💕

                                          ( &. MEME )

       ❝ My first friend was my best friend,           she was FUNNY and she was SMART. If she didn’t change the world           with  some kind of Nobel Prize or whatever it would have been as the          first mayor of a COCOA-BASED MUNICIPALITY.  - I’m getting ahead          of myself.                           We met in a park. Take that for a meet-cute.  We  met  in a           park and she had a bow in her hair. And YES, she was kind. And YES,          she was always a borderline genius.  And,  sure,  I  don’t think I saw           her F A I L at anything in her entire life.  But  that wasn’t the girl I met           in the park.  Because her bow was crooked.  She was my best friend           and people happen to think she was perfect. But she wasn’t.                          She  had  the  tendency  to  get flustered. She would even          have  occasional outburst of irrational rage ( that were actually pretty          funny ).  She  spoke  with  her  hands too much. She couldn’t always          relax.   She was so friggin’ stubborn,  oh my god.  She  hated  being          told  no.  She  slept with her mouth open. She had an annoying habit          of  reminding  me  when I wasn’t acting like a good version of myself.         And  even  more  infuriating habit of seeing me for everything I was &          am and thinking I was worth any time at all.                          My first friend was my best friend. Will always be my          best friend. I don’t want to remember her as some personification of         all that is good in the world.  She  wasn’t  a  saint.  She had crooked          bows  and tears and sometimes snorted when she laughed.  People          can  have  the  sanctified version of her. I’ll keep her and all her little          imperfections with me. We chose each other in that park, everything         that came with us. Despite all our differences, we chose each other.                                                           That’s what you need to know about me and my first friend. ❞

   Peter extended his pencil, separating the locks of blond hair that    had fallen in front of her face, shielding her from view. She was in    the zone, face contorted in some weird focusing expression.