Armenians Have Lived In Jerusalem For 1,600 Years And Armenian Palestinians Are The Oldest Group In The

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ. September will bring blessings.

ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

KNITTED 

She had knit you a sweater, 

You wear it every day. 

You’ve had it sixteen years so- 

It’s to no surprise that you'd never throw it away. 

The threads follow you like a trail of shadows, 

It’s thin and damaged

It smells of hard work 

She had knit you a sweater, 

You wear it every day

You say it’s disgusting 

But you never cleaned it anyway. 

She had knit you a sweater, 

You hate it with such pain 

BRIGHT 

Greys, blacks, and whites 

In a world full of dull 

You are my light. 

She shines so bright 

Vivid dreams come to life 

She whispers things 

That my heart can’t 

Retain 

She sings things to my brain 

That I just can’t explain 

She makes me breathe 

Pushing the oxygen from 

Her love 

Into my lungs 

She reaches and pulls 

Down the moon and the 

Stars. 

She goes far. 

[not my photo, creds to photographer&editor]

“You were supposed to love me, how do you screw up this badly. How did I screw up this badly.” - Delaney Hunt.

one day you’ll wake up at 9:30am on a Sunday w the love of ur life and you’ll make some coffee and pancakes and it’ll all be alright

its mary shelley summer

Happy STS! Your story gets told from someone else's perspective. Whose is it?

If Cavity was to be told from someone else’s perspective, it would have to be her love interest. The woman who is caught in Delaney’s revenge scheme. Her narrative would be just as important as Delaney’s narrative, perhaps more honest.

Thinking about... Grieving the undead.

Fuck! You already know what I’m about to say

I’ve fallen.

Lips have been touched

Body has been hugged

Eyes have been met

Hands have been held

And fuck it – I’m melting

A cis woman tells me that maybe she should transition to gain male privilege as I'm recovering from getting beaten up in the men's bathrooms.

I tell her to be my guest and give me a call when she gets her jaw broken, I always carry a first aid kit and a pepper spray.

She calls me a misogynistic asshole.

A cis man tells me that he'd sure love some T.

Gave him my prescription and best of luck with the constant shortages and getting denied.

He calls me a pussy.

I'm fighting for my life and reproductive rights. I get told to get off women's fights, that it's not about me, like I shed my womb after my first T shot.

I search for support groups for SA victims, and I'm stuck in the same “women/NBs only”. Still shooting my shot, send an application. I introduce myself. Never get a call back.

I go to a trans night. Say I go by he/him. Get told back “yeah, that's how we all start !” by a trans woman. I'm too exhausted, I get up and I leave.

I hang out with my friends, one of them drunkenly says masculinity is a prison we must learn to escape. She gets rows of applause. Back to drinking alone.

Yes I could explain it. But who'd you rather be ? A delusional girl or a man made threat ?Or it could be better, I could just not exist ! And we'd bleach my corpse and I'd become a casualty. Not an F, ot an M, a W for Wound and for Wrong.

I put a candle on a single cupcake, 2 years on HRT. I blow it in the dark. Curtains closed like casket.