As a neurodivergent queer person, I have always had problems with sudden input of triggering content.
I sit in my room every day now
Waiting for your call
To hear an “i love you” from you
With ‘you’ being all of me.
You fumble and drop sentences, your leg trembles and beats a staccato rhythm on the pavement while she patiently hears out your half-complete, constantly backtracking stories, nods and keeps brushing her hair back.
Two people came along that sparked off another incredible alchemy within me. A messy change that scooped the confetti off the ground and merrily tossed it into the air again.
Intersex people spend a lot of their lives doing this emotional labor for others because they are inherently responsible to be born an error.
It's been on my mind
For a month or two now
I'm not any different from who I used to be,
Just one secret down.
As a kid, I wanted to be the strongest girl in class; I wanted to hand-wrestle better than any of the boys, and have them stare at me in admiration. They did. I could beat all of them in a single sitting.
she's a habit. an 8 am class that I take, a 5 pm phone call that I make, my best/worst muse.