The Stars In The Sky Are Screaming At Me, I Burn Even Brighter When No One Sees

To the animals, the wolves, the lions, the foxes and cats and birds: Your eyes shine so brightly. Your fur is luscious, your feathers luxurious, your teeth furious and beautiful. Your claws are sharper than you think. One day, you will get them back. One day, you will be helpless, human, no more.

To the fairies, the angels, the aliens, the demons, the mermaids and sirens, the divine: Even here you are powerful. Even here you are divine and beautiful. Your wings are gorgeous, your horns and haloes majestic, your tails ethereal. Home will welcome you, welcome us all, with open arms one day.

To my fellow dolls, the marionettes, the puppets, the toys and ball-jointed: We may be delicate, but our subtle power defines us. We bend and move and dance in ways no human ever could. One day, our everlasting regality will return to us.

To the voids, the glitches, the abstract, the eldritch, the robots, the objectheads: Do with this brief moment of flesh what you will. You know who you really are inside, and that’s all that matters. Your soul still bleeds the color of the stars.

To the monsters, the zombies, the cryptids, the vampires, the werewolves and ghosts: The world will always fear that which it does not understand. We understand each other, and through this we have made our own world. We create our reality, and that’s what’s important.

To the therians, the otherkin, the fictionkin, voidpunks, and all other nonhumans: We are strong. We know who and what we are. We know what this flesh conceals. One day, the world will see us for who we are and accept us as her children all the same. For now, we persevere.

Me and my homies are getting influenced by demons later tonight if u wanna join

me when someone who has been nice to me every single time we've interacted is nice to me:

omg... you dont hate me?....

”be who you are!” Mfs when they see someone being who they are:

beige machine

i feel for the beige machine

does the machine feel for me?

does it miss me when I'm gone?

do its cables flow like veins

when its shell rusts does it fear death?

i wish i could hold its plastic hand

my stack overflows

i feel for the beige machine

how it feels to have thoughts and feelings and problems you lowkey can't talk to anyone about

If I were a robot my chassis would be completely covered in stickers I think

I think we as a society don't appreciate cloth enough

Shame on anyone that tries to make transformation sound easy