the glaring discrepancy of living

pride month is coming to an end and i have little to nothing to say, other than that i no longer know how to be proud of something everyone has. watching cishet people this month wearing our colours, using our language, waving out flags has jaded me even further than i already was. i have never felt accepted by the lgbt community, but i rarely feel i belong anywhere. i had come to terms with some aspects of who i am and developed a slight sense of self love as it applied to leather and the love of men, however i am unsure now if i will ever be able to manage the courage to believe in myself like that again. i was severely disillusioned by the onslaught of companies slapping on various meaningless slogans, hues, and quick cash grab rainbow marketing. it's exhausting to me sometimes to be considered queer. i wouldn't ask to be anything else; but living with such a weight and knowledge of your potential imminent death, knowing that you will likely die before you reach your mid-30s, the pandering, the inter-community politics ... it's exhausting. i have to live the rest of my life knowing i will always be a political object. and due to not passing, i am being objectified sexually as a woman as well as being objectified as a political and social device,

i do not want to leave my house and stand for something simply because i am.

i want nothing more than to be left alone and not be murdered, i do not want to be raised above others or hailed for anything other than what i produce organically. however, if it comes from me, it is thusly queer and political in nature. it will never end. it's enough to make one want to end it all. which i have been thinking about a lot lately and quite seriously, as well. i have slowly begun organising what would be an archive of drawings and writings of which are inconsequential and meaningless as my existence is vacuous; a large space for wind to waft in and out of. i'm trying to properly cover all my bases with it, but cannot get over the guilt. if i could rid myself of the guilt i'd feel if i went through with it, then it would be no issue.

i am ready to be forgotten.

i feel alone and i want to be away from life forever, permanently. when i'm able to sleep, it is potentially the only time i feel secure and safe. i have little to no access to the people or events that surround me, i have nothing but the comfort of the same blanket i've had my entire life and my stuffed animals.

i feel heavy, incredibly, incredibly heavy and exhausted. recently i broke out into stress-induced hives from my face to my ankles, my whole body burned and itched and i ended up unable to breathe properly. now the steroid and anti-biotics are making me dizzy, light-headed, and unable to walk without holding onto walls and other surfaces outtuv fear of falling. we can't afford a hospital visit. we can't afford anything, no one can.

i've been having difficulty putting my emotions into words. all i can do is take more pills and lie down in my bed. i am often, very suddenly, alone, and not coping well with it. i can't begin to explain the way it feels to suddenly have your friends and family both rescind their attention to you, and in the case of my family, when i try to reach out i am immediately met with malice. i am a small, stupid dog who cannot rationalise his way outtuv scenarios i am too naïve to recognise as farses. i am and always will be the abandoned dog sitting and waiting; chained to a wire fence, too dumb to know that it's over. i don't know why they don't take me to a kill shelter.

there isn't much positive to report.

i've been distant because i can't put the whole of my emotions into comprehensible words. i have also lately been thinking about andy warhol's films, and how a close friend of mine holds a deep distaste for them and him in general. is it not beautiful enough to simply watch? be that a kiss, a good night's rest, or simply the silhouette of a building outside your window? i like waiting, even if nothing happens. i like the feeling of anticipation, that calm liminal space where it feels almost like you could or are dying temporarily, waiting for the next thing to occur. i like to take dips into death. it may be the closest chance i'll ever get to experiencing the real thing until it's finally time.

naturally, as all things go and are, everything is subject to change and i mean nothing and everything of what i say, and you must understand, of course, that everything i say is bullshit.

i'm tired, you're tired, jesus wept.

i love you all, i hope you're well.

i posted an excerpt from the novel i'm currently working on here in case anyone is interested.

radio free harley

xoxo