God Fuck or War Baby Sylvia Plath, or Why I’m Secretely Lizzie Grant’s Favorite Poet

If he only knew how unloved he had been,
Loved twice… i’m not sure the last one loved me, i can see her getting mad now and punching me, for saying that –
Not bc it wasnt true but how dare I put those optics out …
Her life with me was not what it seemed then…. I dont know why she dated me
I dont even know what to say,
Like, how do you acknowledge that you werent ever loved growing up
Its like we have to fix others perceptions of us before we can fix our own, but there is no changing of theirs
Like, my sisters and mothers perception is so unloving – my father taught them that
But my mom was also a major narcissist, the kind of mom who could eat a yogurt while saying, “okay, okay, im a shitty parent”,
After your 17 years of no childhood, growing up about damn near as feral as could be… no normalcy, no stability, no love, food barely in the fridge…
Just the fucking words I love you,
Which we all know are empty after the fact , the verb
I dont think the one before her loved me either, though, she was perfect for me –
And I wished I had been for Her
I still obsess and love over her, like I do everyone I dated… its intense to be loved by me, yeah, I can’t imagine… I told a random I loved them while we were fucking recently…
And it fucked with their head… they said it made then feel pressured to let me cum in them, which they (using they bc that is their pronouns) told me to do… anyway, i didnt know they were emotionally upset until they texted me days later.. we had sex after that time, later that night, that time I came on them.. splat hehe
And they invited me to sleep over after, said I didnt have to leave, and I slept over… we cuddled… it was actually a really neat night, for they are a cool queer person… but like, I fucking weirded them out bc obvi I have very clear attachment issues – and im sorry to that person and or any other person I have ever unknowingly made uncomfortable… but its not been a pattern of me… I just, I sleep with girls, I fall in love with them, and I date them for years… im just fucked up like that… haha thats been my life pattern
And I have literally dated the coolest girls I ever met… just, too cool for me
Anyway, this person texted me about the apparent distraught I had caused them, and I handled it horribly bc selfish me only thought about someone who was now going to smear me with this story… whatever its true… let them tell it, let me tell it… I get emotionally attached bc I was a neglected child, end of story … anyway, I blocked that person bc they made the aassertion that bc of how I reacted to their texts, that “this obviously happens a lot to you”… christ that upset me
No bitch. Never actually.
I’ve caused girls emotional distraught from dating me, you can call them and ask them all… but I never ever had like a bad post sex situation before, much less someone telling me they felt “forced” into telling me cum to in them – what happened – bc I said I loved them – which also happened, which was wrong of me
I’m sorry, I felt love … but I just… in my own messy loneliness of despair…
It had been so long since I had slept with anyone, much less, had affection… I was trying to be good with covid… but then I was camping in Half Moon Bay, got lonely in my tent and tindered my way into her bed… anyway, just, I had been so lonely in the mountains for so long that my loneliness left me vulnerable… but ive always been vulnerable… I was never the type to tell girls I loved them, I was the type to actually love them… foolish and wreckless like that…
Anyway, Im making excuses for my attachment issues, and how they negatively manifested themselves in my making this person feel uncomfortable… and, honesty, that sucks more than anything I could ever imagine…
Its honestly left me very upended since I got this persons texts… like, I reacted like a fucking classic asshole to them… all I cared about was like, “Damn, am I gonna have to defend myself against this person”, they stated their consent, and it was nothing like I had assaulted this person or forced them to do anything, but more that I had violated their emotional boundaries… but just, it freaked me the fuck out bc I want a fucking writing career goddamnit… and public perception is very sensitive to claims of impropriety, which I felt this could be seen as, no matter what I said… anyway, I told them to go to hell and then texted them like a psychopath the next hour berating them for not loving me… yeah, real cool shit… but just, in my little mind it felt like my reputation was on the line in high school but it was life, and forever, and with myself – bc this was fucking w my head… I wanted this person to like me, like I wasnt trying, it was just obvious they were an experienced bay area queer… and I thought that was really cool, didnt realize I was fetishing it.. anyway, I had not slept with anyone since coming out as trans, which, I know can be seen as somehow ill fitting me, but thats just gender and emotions and the brain and how it sucks… anyway, I felt like they had just latched onto a version of me that wasnt true to me at all… like they were trying to convince me of my worthlessness, bc I felt worthless, and I think this person may too, no fucking clue, just, they obviously had a good heart, and that was all I felt necescary in order to love them, bc isnt that what they deserved… I thought so, in the moment, tried to love them, tried to be loved, was not – clearly, but in my stupid innocent little head, I felt I was, bc why wouldnt this person love me, thats what I deserve, at least, I think so, all the time –
Anyway, I hate that person for betraying my vulnerability, but the person who betrayed my vulnerability was me…
Anyway, I had stupidly thought this person wanted to be my friend, like I stupidly think all theses bitches love me
And yeah, I use some toxic words like bitch
I am not a toxic person, I am loving and caring, as all who know me and have dated me will attest, just, I have no fucking business sleeping with anyone ever again because I dont know what love is, I dont think ive ever been loved, not like I love, but the problem is loving people the way that I do, so strongly…. and this person made me feel destroyed to have been seen as somehow enotionally manipulative in the act of copulation, like, fucking, kill me now that aint me baby… but yeah, I get it:
Anyway, im probably never gonna fucking ever trust my feelings about someone ever again… to have this person see me that way, in a light not even realistic to me…
I dont even know, just, I didnt know I had the power to upset someone like that, but, I fucking obviously didnt mean too… I jusst am not good at no strings sex, I catch feelings…. which, are still there for this person, bc they are a kind goodhearted person… I hope they get their teacher job, teachers have always been my bag… lost one to marriage recently, fucking love you forever Kelly… we became close, and that was a one night thing too
I get close to people, but the emotions I put upon them are too much too soon, no matter how genuine they are for me
I can still see them fanning their eyes, after we finished having sex, and I asked them if they were okay, and they said, “Phew, yeah, that was just… intense” – they collected themselves, we talked long after, mostly just me listening to their cute stories, and I enjoyed their company… my dumb ass was ready to sign this bitch on as a lover ….like I am everyone, but Im so love hungry
But its intense and im sorry, and bc I hurt this beautiful person with my intensity, I hate my intensity now… its like, a Jain Buddhist doesnt even want to step on a ant, ya know
Im like that, so sensitive to suffering –
Unless I caused it, then apparently Im an unfeeling asshole like many people sometimes are when they do shit that hurts others… anyway, I feel like thats the last time I will ever have sex in my life – or at the very least the last time I will sleep with someone I dont know well bc I cant get physical without emotional… okay, maybe with a yoga teacher here and there ;) but nah, just, I can’t ever joke about sex anymore… or even see myself as a fucking healthy worthwile human bc this person clearly aint think so:
I THOUGHT I WAS
Until those texts… then holy fuck –
I HAVENT been able to feel safe emotionally since knowing I upset this person, nor have I been able to feel right about it… fucking, writing about it days later here, like, this kept me up at night
Bc I hate that I did that
But also, I hate this person now from the bottom of my heart for calling me out on what was toxic – I said I loved her – them, lets be clear, that was the toxic part, youd think I was defending worse allegations, but when it comes to sex and enotional upset, I think any is too much
IM NOT COMFORTABLE WITH IT
And I wish they had let me know if they werent, rather than telling me to cum in them, cuddling me, fucking me again, and then texting me days later saying that “our thing made me sad”, before getting into this “i felt forced into letting you cum in me bc you told me you loved me” mess, like, I blew up at their texts, but really I was neglecting the fact that they told me they had been raped, after we had slept together, and I felt like they were putting someone elses actions on me when they texted me, when I got the texts, like that energy or hurt had been directed at me, and I was guilty of the loss of their innocence… anyway, I just acted as discompassionate as anyone could…
Sara (my ex was a Sarah), I am sorry for the emptional upset my embrace caused
It has disturbed the fuck out me to know this… I was trying to give love…. I was the one who needed it…. any fucking way, this is book shit, memoir shit, bc these are the experiences that change you
And that experi3nce took the innocence of sex away for me, like, damnit Sara, I just wanted to love your stupid fat queer ass
I’m never going to feel right about this, and somehow, I think thats how it has to be
BC I can never sleep with someone I dont know ever again, bc the fact is, sex and love are the same to me bc of their intimacy… and this person will probably go on somehow taking me on as their personal fucking cause, crucifying me for the sins of the patriarchy, like, look at this boy who just tells girls he loves themz fucks them and doesnt love them –
No I fuck em and love em
And thats a dangerous thing… im not good at knowing who to trust, even then, I love this Sara for teaching me that… bc I could have done way worse than to meet this good hearted, intelligent, way more mature than me queer person who called me out on that my emotions were unwarranted, but also, just, I thought my love a mitzvah.. . Not creepy…. but their texts painted me that way… and I cant wash the revulsion out of my mouth, the self hate from it…
I cannot forgive myself for hurting myself – truthfully, I dont feel that what I did was morally or ethically wrong at all, bc it came from a place of queer vulnerability for me…. I told them I loved them during sex, that was the onus for all this…. and anyway that has been completely shattered ever since their texts… I blocked them on IG and via text after they asserted that “clearly I do this a lot” when I acted like a dick when they texted me… but like, where do you get off on wrecking my entire fucking self esteem from this singular experience you had of me…. but they didnt wreck my selfesteem, I never had any, if its so fucking weak that one opinion can wreck it… but thats how serious some of us take the people we sleep with and how they perceive us… like I wasnt looking for self esteem via sex, but I was looking for love –
What I got was my lack of love multiplied, me feeling so unlovable… I am not sure one person ever made me inclined to feel less deserving of love, other than perhaps my mother, and a long term ex or three –
See this has been a real recogning / reckoning for me about loving people… I love like the dog you beat and still wants your love, bc I am searching for love in my life, like many loving creatures, just I always put people on pedestals and romanticize them, and want them to love me, when they just are seeking something from me back that isnt love, a handsome neat identity which I dont have, I have a neat Self, something special
Something assholes will shit on everytime… sometimes an ethical slut aint ethical…. some people order dick like pizza and want a product not a person –
Like, I can’t do that… so, this was a death of my life ever having a one night stand again… they looked like shaved head Lena Dunham, I acted like it –
They just wanted some Adam Driver dick…
I’m not that aloof, just dumb
And by dumb, I mean kind, caring
I just, I felt so safe with this person, that I said that
And I dont think Ill ever feel safe again in that way, naievely, dumbly, blindly…
I thought that if someone wasnt conventionally attractive it was sure to be made up in their hearts
What a dumb cunt am I
All you Trans Exclusionary Feminists can suck it, throw my using the word bitch back at me as if it proves I must be toxic… like, why am I held to a different standard than a girl, bc I am a guy, no, Im a non-binary trans girl, and this bitch listens to hip hop and says bitch… bc this bitch is a lit feminist … and my definition of a feminist is the same as Virginia Woolfs,
“A feminist is any woman who tells the truth about her life” – and I am not afraid of this or any other telling the truth about me, though I know the truth about men in particular is often ugly… and I forget that I too have had my ugly moment, when I put hands on someone I loved… i cant forgive myself for it not ever, and im still mortally wounded in my love for them and sorry for the rest of my life… forever
but this was not that…I am not an ugly person – aside from our text conversation in which I was ugly at having felt so railroaded by the weight of this persons perfect valid hurt, for every persons feelings are valid – just, people have been dumping shit on me since I grew up the scapegoat / identified patient in my family, Cinderella, ashes girl for whom this was a big wakeup moment for me, because I never saw the power I was giving others over me to both validate and invalidate me – the validation I needed
I’ve been seeking an externally driven model of self, based on an external approval of me that I never received, an internal approval so sensitive to how others felt, ive always just been trying to make people happy… but the problem is, those people will use you, and not only will they not be happy after, but they will resent themselves for their treatment of you and take it out on you for “making them” do it to you, for using and devaluing you… it never happens if you value yourself, you see…. but by then, its too late, you’ve already realized they didnt – anyway, I was so angry, I told them in my texts to “tell the judge” and go “post about it on social m3dia” – like I said, I was ugly in my texts… have them all saved, including her reiterating that she consented… just, I fucking am so angry that this happened… but it was nothing less than a revelation to me of how fucking devoid I was of my own value, and how that toxically affected someone else, anyway, this ain’t no huff post pat your self on the back for taking on on the chin for patriarchy puff piece, this just the story of one autism spectrum trans girl with the emotional maturity of an eight year old, maybe five, I don’t know, I dont know what it’s like to have had a loving childhood. And that’s the capital T truth… not that I have some bad mother, she wasnt, she didnt even get love herself growing up, it’s always like that, but my mom put her worthlessness on me, my whole family did and does to this day, it actually reached a fever point this summer, as I watched the death of my naive feeling-loved relationship with my Mother and Sister… I was trying to love these women after they let me be homelessness on Christmas bc of their joined transphobia under the nazi banner of my sisters husband, whom I am no fucking fan of.. for goddamn good reason… but my sister loved my dad and hated me, and my dad was a monster at heart, a true narcissist, selfishness matched only by my mother’s own self-deluded selfishness… it was a fucking war zone growing up… touch was basically absent… as were words of praise, there is a kind of worthlessness only a kid who grows up poor with addict alcoholic parents… like they push you into the water, tell you to swim before you can, and you never learn… then they blame you for drowning… mom, I forgive you okay – but when I realized this summer that my mom and sister did not love me for me, love me, my world crumbled… I fucking fell apart, I went from cheery garden companion to my landlord on weekends, to just, pieces… I fell apart… my whole world… and no one knew bc I had no one to talk to, so I just put all that energy into my activism this past summer, which, was a terrible idea… bc now instead of being mad at my mom and sister, the terrible shitty hand I was dealt in their and my fathers treatment of me, as just neglected whipping boy cinderella… instead of being hurt with my hurt alone, I let myself hurt with those hurting the most – people in prison camps, in countries that start with North Korea and China, and I took my ire onto the world’s leaders for just, this sad fucking terrible state of the world, so bankrupt of integrity, and I did what I thought would make a difference… but mostly I just raged with all my sinew and marrow, against a world that was letting so much worse happen than anything that had ever happened to me, and I put that blame on people with power who I felt did nothing but rubber stamp human rights violations… anyway, I lost my fucking mind… bc my mental health was in shambles after being totally devalued and demeaned by family… my mom literally fucking talks shit about ME to her family, as if, look I’m not the worst… this person is a way bigger trainwreck than me, yeah your child’s personal sufferings in adulthood, after a hellishly traumatic childhood you neglected them with, growing up with the biggest heart in the family and being treated like a fucking septic tank for the family’s problems – Wikipedia- identified patient… the fucking family trauma is so deep and old in my family, on both sides…. I barely survived childhood… I read an interview with this child who had grown up in an eastern European orphanage, he was an adult now, and he pushed everyone away – that’s how it seemed to his family, and I think how they made it to him, but I dont think that’s how it was, I think no one could give this person an adequate amount of love to fill the hole inside of them, or even recognize the hole enough, the wounds, to love the person, I know my exes tried, and they knew I had a bad childhood, but I never really knew how bad it was until now, bc the worst part wasnt no food in the house, it was being left alone to climb onto the counter tops as a child, and eat sugar out of the bag, bc that’s all there was… maybe a couple inches of milk my dad would have berated me for finishing… god never knew a person worse as my dad, but I know they exist, just, hes the worst I ever met, and my mom and sister loved the hell out of him, and held me down as the runt of the litter… sometimes I have felt that my exes or mom or sister just wanted me to kill myself, so they could tell themselves the fault was in me… I was troubled… no, I was sane, compassionate, kind – they werent – look my mom and sister arent bad people, I love them, but like, the lack of love in my family is fucking bone chilling… no love in my house growing up… love is wanting happiness for another… they only ever cared about happiness for themselves, I promise you… there is such a thing as people you love not wanting the best for you, because that would negate the narrative of how bad they been to you, clearly, one undeserving of happiness in their eyes, not even worthy of their worth… when the opposite was true… like, I’m digging up shit okay, I been up all fucking night and day writing this.. bc I have to, it’s the truth, I have enough integrity to remain faithful to truth and enough character to be loyal to it… there ain’t shit I’m trying to run from in my life… I’m trying to run towards it now, bc my 35 years are a wreck of trying to please borderline narcissists who lied to themselves, gaslighting me without even knowing what they are doing… the fucking trauma of un forged emotional bonds.. and I’m sorry to my cute af fat dyke bay area bae, Sara, that my trauma let me attach to this beautiful person in an unhealthy manner during a ONS that I wanted to be a friendship and a love … I’m glad they werent broken too, or else they surely would have loved me… maybe they did… they were pushing me away pretty good telling me they wish they met me at a different time, but I think that was just letting me down easy, after I let them down by not being the prize but treating them as it… anyway, they wanted self esteem from me, and had none extra for me, and I was looking for it in the wrong place, I wasnt looking in the self… but my self had always been so externally oriented to the approval of these parent surrogates, which all my exes were… bc I was a goddamn near feral child… the trauma… I never knew how bad it was, not until this Sara called me out on being the worst kind of clingy… which I am, and it sickens me, bc I have been taught that I am not worthy of love in this world, and I have tried so hard to prove otherwise, by loving these incredible girls whom I tried to be perfect cisgender masculine alpha male to, anyway, this is getting a little huff-Poe-ish, just, you know, I was beat up a lot growing up, I joined the military, I played rugby, and all these things were nothing but fucking attempts to make myself into a man… haha I was Transgender as a fucking child… on the autism spectrum good and hard too… I just, I masked it all under a self that I was loving women to sell me… their version of me… and that’s exactly – all I wanted to be, but, was never good enough for them, kind of like I was never good enough for my parents or my sister, but the real truth was just that I wasnt good enough for myself, if I was, I would have been calling them out on their shit instead of trying to perfect mine and taking my failure to live up to their perfect conception of me, like my mother wanted, like many American woman had hoped to find but never did, and the fault was always w me… bc if there is a single quality that defines my exes – besides being good-hearted American brunettes, from easy backgrounds, it would be a complete lack of ability to take personal responsibility for any thing ever, I was the fucking scapegoat in my childhood and my relationships… my exes still have a myth of me, each of them, their own, written me off with the hate only someone has who loves you, whom you loved… anyway, I’m really fucking traumatized from a life of loving these Cassandra’s, from being the fly in their ointment, the misspending of their youth… if only they loved me the same way I still fucking love them… but I guess that’s a broken part of me too, they all repeated the abandonment and neglect of my childhood ultimately…. I was just thrown under the bus of time as a sunk cost, a waste in their lives of trying to make me into who they swore I was going to be come hell or high water, good goddamn do my exes have some strong wills. They are the last women I will ever love. Because love isnt safe for me. And, it was always a house of cards… always so delicate and conditional… anyway I am shaken to the fucking core after this experience… after waking up to all it allowed me to see, even if it took a poison arrow to do it, more hurt inside… it was the last hurt… I can never give someone the power to love me again, I can never love again. That was it. I tried. But I’m not fucking killing myself goddamnit, as hard as that would make their clits, I just cant be the lost cause in their book, I wasn’t- as victor hugo wrote in Les Mis, one of my favorites, though Toilers of the Sea is more like me, Gilliat, anyway, just, as he wrote, “There are times when no matter the position of the body, the soul is on its knees” – and this is one, I just cried something awful… bc I realize, in my heart, instead of being abandoned by one mother, I was abandoned by four… that’s what they were to me…. I dont know love, I just know wanting to be good enough… Martin Eden, trying to be worthy of the drawing room girls, god my exes are paintings… exquisitely beautiful… but there I was always, trying to be good enough, kickflipping with your little brother in the backyard on prom night while your dad showed his ferraris to the other boys… he didnt invite me in the garage, so I took his last name… I think that boy, who grew up poor, was a lot like me on the inside, and he hated it bc he thought I wasnt good enough for his daughter who would rip my fucking heart out by fucking my best friend and mentor, another multi millionaire self made person… I tend to have been lucky to have been liked by some of those, the last was my landlord, we were friends until I lost my heart this summer and the sun set in me, but the sun’s really down now… I can just see in the dark… and it hurts, so I medicate to cover up my war wounds, to dim the light… to numb the pain… and I did this summer and combined with my human rights activism I lost my fucking head… just trying to fight for this world…. I have fought for everyone but myself… and now I look, and it’s just me, in a house I wrecked, not the first, but definitely the last … I dont even know what to say… just… I want to accept my pain bc I can feel it all now… I’m someone who sleeps on the floor like the count of monte cristo… bc I grew up without a bed, why provide myself one now… lord knows I haven’t dated for two years and the story you heard above, the impetus for all this, was what I got for trying… and I have to take care of this terribly fucking war torn little boy… one who was supposed to end up either dead or Alexander The Great.. and since I’m not dead, I’ll be Alexander, but in truth, I’d rather be Diogenes, for I am the wild dog philosopher himself, look in at the C-PTSD diorama of my home, I always break the fucking windows when I lose it… okay, well, one other time before this… it’s not that I have mental health issues, I have mental health struggles bc I have been so left alone in life… no one even has my number… i pushed all my friends away this summer when I felt they werent fans of me as my true self, tired of trying to Bradley Cooper elephant man myself into their cis het mental doppelganger of me, so I could be perfect cool dude… I’m pretty cool, I mean, self awareness is cool, personal responsibility is cool…. I will never drink alcohol in excess again, in part due to tinnitus it exacerbates, but also, just, I dont do that to myself anyway, the devil can have a devil may care attitude but I cant… bc I do care about me, and what’s more, I really care about other people… but I always cared about them more than me, as if my mom’s adult emotions were vastly paramount to my child feelings… which were never acknowledgized… yeah I made up that word… but yeah, some of my bad boy behavior was selfish in the years, but my selfishness never came first… I have always strove to be genuine bc I am…. and unfortunately, these crisis of love, of identity, in my life, have always been so near deadly for me… but I’m gonna make it… I knew if I made it to this day I would… the day when my loving beautiful version of the world died… all that love, all the years and energy I poured into these relationships…. I’ll never be able to do that again… my heart is ice, and I’m shook as fuck about it, and I’m just trying to process this… I have processed more than 6ou can imagine… now I’m just sitting in th4 wreckage, floating, on my own island, like my childhood hero, Robinson Crusoe…. guess I crucified myself, I mean crusoe-fied… some people are so strong they have to end up alone, with themselves …. and it’s really hard, cause I had hoped to find love that I could hang my identity on, like I never had.. a family, and mine is just me, and my mom, like a resentful sister, and my sister, like a resentful sister … I’m happy to be presented for not living up to their bullshit, anyway, I feel like war baby sylvia plath, and I just cut my lip open shaving, and I see a wolf in the mirror… not a bad one… no this wolf is no predator… but I’m doing being prey, everybody wanted me in their collection… even the department of defense… and they got me for life…. but that’s a long story, and I’m tired of telling them, I just need to go cry in the shower… I’ve got a baby to take care of, myself… god damn am I seeing through new eyes… Just, this fucking war baby, like the Roddy Ricch song… and like Future raps, “If the streets dont kill you first they gon make you scrong” and I think I am maybe strong for the first time ever… bc there is nothing I will not look at in the light of day now… anyway, this is just a new dawn of self awareness for me, war baby sylvia plath… and I think I’m going to be a champion now that I know the pitfalls of life, my wounds, and just how terribly fucking much it hurts to have a good heart like me and be maligned… usually deserved… its just… I never want anyone to say, there goes a bad person, bc that would be a lie – and the truth isnt pretty but it’s better than the lie, anyway, make no mistakes, my eyes havent been this clear since never .. and yeah, I can see my faults, I know my errors, I’ve always written about them, for over a decade here, and I’m not going anywhere, and all this will be further explored in my memoirs… just, examining my own pain, and every wrong I ever did… I was lucky to be born with something my father never had, a conscience…. and its the greatest thing… bc I want a future in this world as a serious writer of fucking books, and I want more than that… I want to be a living testament to this time period, for all its hypocrisy… anyway, just, I dont have to watch my back, I have no dirt on me I havent shovelled out and excavated here… and this dirt hardly more than dust – and believe me, at this point, I’m stainless from here on out… this was my citrinitas… I have finally related all my life and my suffering back to reality… I just didnt realize how lonely of an eternity that reality would be, and I never want to enter someone else’s story again… this is my fucking life… its not a narrative, I’m no huckster, this G shit, that Yin transformation … I mean, I’m just looking at the slinky all compressed for the first time, and I can see the truth of my life all now… and it kinda starts today, going to go throw my carcass in the shower now that the vultures cant get it… and yeah, they’ll still smell the blood on me, but I will not be anyone’s prey or sport or cock buyers remorse, or fucking bachelor candidate… I’m just fucking getting eligible, but I think I’ll keep my nose clean and cash in this check I’ve got, it’s got a lot of zeroes, but there finally a leading digit… it’s just a 1, cause it’s just going to be me at the top, as single as Bruce fucking Wayne… and not bc I … but bc I grew up traumatized and ultimately this trauma has left me alone, closed and whole hearted… unto myself, alone in a world I now am very careful to protect, I have a life to steward, a career to launch… cue Look At me Now, Caroline Polacheck … and no, it’s not ambition or success that drive me… anyone who knows me knows that… what drives me is the homeless trans kids, basically how I grew up… and goddamn do they need love… I cant give them that, I mean, I do love them, but I know now, love is not something you can give to someone, bc love can only be shared, if it’s not shared, it’s not love…. but they still love me… while somehow never having really loved me, bc I did not have love for all of me…. anyway I’m boring the fuck out of myself. Gotta go do shit for war baby sylvia plath… her life kinda fucking wrecky rn…. all I can say is, RD LAING, I need to read all your work… bc I think it’s on the money… god fuck… I think I’m finally going to understand what Lana means

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