enby.
media enthusiast.
Do you know who you are?
When I look at the mirror, is my own reflection staring at me? Or is it a confused somebody? A confused something? I can stare at myself for hours on end and know nothing is right. Nothing is where it belongs. My limbs grow incorrectly, the tapes get mixed up, and I lose a bit more of myself each time.
My heart is all I have, take it away and what else do I…
in the stripped club. straight up "jorking it". and by "it", haha, well. let's justr say. My peanits
Did not jork.
Everyday, I have to watch the rise and fall of my rib cage with my mechanical breathing.
Everyday, I have to spy on the lives of others around me, for me to copy their mannerisms.
Everyday, I have to be trapped in this mannequin of meat, this body that I only manage to escape temporarily.
I’ve only tried coming out properly twice. Once to one of my closest friends, in which he didn’t accept me, and to my mom who…