God forbid we all actually recognize black people’s humanity.

There is hardly any intention or personality in what I write anymore. I feel like it’s been drained out of me. I have a hard time communicating in any form now. Writing was the one way I could really get my thoughts to make sense to other people, because I am all chest pain and teary eyed when I try to talk. I don’t know if I’ll ever fix that.

I feel especially alienated and sad today. It’s never over.

"We were then young girls and our want was written on our skins. Between our legs and along our necks and wrists, our skin craved friction and more friction. We kissed calluses into the backs of our hands, murmuring comfort at the enflamed flesh, but still, our skin would not be satisfied. In the dark, we rubbed pillows against stinging nipples and curled knee to chin, hoping to keep the skin from flying from our bodies. Stay with me, we said. In the mornings, we woke to puddles of wet sugar in our beds and wrung moisture from our underwear."

But it could be a lot worse. I’m so lucky to have a few friends here, some who have really helped me out.

I’ve generally been okay since the move, I think. It’s been tough for me, and there have been a lot of nights where I’ve gone to bed thinking I can’t do this. “This” such as learn this insipid city, be awkward with people on a daily (almost hourly) basis, work at a really brisk, almost thoughtless pace. I never feel like I’m doing most things the right way. I hate asking questions or depending on people because it feels like they think I’m an idiot. Hapless and stupid. And that, above all things, is my biggest insecurity. I’m not an idiot, I’m just not from here. I’m learning and feel like I’m sinking almost every day I’m in New York. And I can’t communicate that to people effectively. And I’m afraid to even try without turning it into a joke or just something to say in passing, because I feel people have no… empathy, I guess. It’s tough. That’s all. I miss driving by large fields of green and traveling down the gulf coast and feeling like I have a sense of belonging. And it’s only been a month. Hah.

I’m on a train to DC and there’s this very distinct old person smell in here. It’s not bad or anything, just distinct. Hm.

A message from Anonymous
Can problematic kinks or fetishes be used in a progressive way?
A reply from fluvicoline


do you have a land redistribution fetish





I guess New York is pretty good so far. I’m not, like, dead, so that’s good.