I Was Drawing A Bunch Of Pentagrams In My Notebook During Math Class Because I Was Bored And I Think

My family is the weirdest combination of rich white people and crazy-ass redneck

Like,

Our fridge has a designated beer drawer filled exclusively with cans of Bud light, but our silverware is organized by use, with the soup spoons separate from the regular spoons, the dinner forks separated from the desert forks, and the butter knives separated from the cheese knives, and each is used as such

Our welcome mat says “trespassers will be shot, survivors will be shot again” and then you walk into the house and immediately see an ornate china cabinet filled with polished silver china, directly to the left of which you will see a machete hanging from a rope on the wall

Upstairs you will find a TV sitting on top of a broken TV, using it as a stand, and if you walk farther down the hallway you will come across a full liquor bar, filled with respectable alcoholic beverages such as cognac, surrounded by pictures of women in the traditional “skimpy German Bar Wench” outfits, then directly opposite this is a random weight bench and various scattered exercise equipment on the floor, because there was space for it I guess

“And you?”

“I was tying someone up on the subway”

New hot take:

River Song is Miss Frizzle

Prove me wrong, I dare you.

The types of questions about my transition that my friends worry will make me uncomfortable: Are you gonna take your shirt off at the beach now?

The types of questions they ask that do make me uncomfortable: Does it make you sad that your father doesn’t respect you?

The thing about this is that it’s not just other people. I used to get compliments all the time on my hair before I transitioned; it was long and wavy and people loved it. But I hated it. To me, my hair was plain and ordinary and burdensome. It was always in the way, an absolute sensory nightmare, never did what I wanted, so I never styled it, never put any effort into making it look nice, besides washing it every so often. I didn’t understand why everyone loved my hair so much, but I liked that they liked it, so much so that it became part of my personality. So then when I transitioned and cut it all off, I was deeply upset, thinking no one would like my hair anymore and therefore that I had lost a piece of myself.

But after a few very very bad haircuts (as is the right of passage for every trans man) I found a hair cut I absolutely loved. I loved the way it felt, the way it looked, the way it wasn’t in my eyes all the time, the way it wasn’t touching the back of my neck, absolutely everything about my hair I loved. So I learned how to style it, how to use all kinds of different products so that I could make it do whatever I wanted, and I started putting effort into my hair. I styled it every morning, dyed it a different blue every six weeks. My hair has never looked better. And I still get compliments all the time from strangers about how much they love it. Probably more than I ever did pre transition. But it wouldn’t matter to me even if I didn’t, because for the first time in my life, I love my hair, because for the first time in my life, it’s mine.

There is something so so very absolutely, incredibly, incomprehensibly amazing about looking in the mirror and finally seeing yourself. And I hope every person gets to experience that in their lifetime at least once.

btw the biggest lie you will ever be told about being trans is that transitioning will make you ugly. that could not be further from the truth: i never got compliments on my appearance ever, but after i transitioned, began dressing like myself, wore my hair the way i wanted to, and especially started T, i have gotten more compliments than i ever have before in my life. people can tell when you look like yourself, like who you're meant to be. it's beautiful, attractive, and sexy. transition will not make you "ugly". it will make you yourself, and that's inherently beautiful

Edgar Allen Poe: There’s a body under the floorboards, it’s heart beats to the sound of your guilt.

Everyone else: umm...

Edgar Allen Poe: The raven knows your name, it knocks on your window, quoting forevermore.

Everyone else: You okay, bro?

Friend: “How’s that book coming along?”

Me: “Which one?”

Friend: “You already finished one?!”

Me and my seventeen half-finished prologues of various novels and thirty other abandoned books with absolutely no endings: “Well, you see...”

A bunch of kids messing with a ouija board: we call upon the spirits!

The ghost of a teenager who died in 2002: *snikering* Bro, I’m gonna tell them I’m a Victorian royal murdered by my husband.

His buddy, laughing: Yo, tell them you never got revenge so now you’re gonna murder them instead.

The ghost: Oh, hell yeah! Classic man!

the issue w/ ouija boards is that ghosts are LIARS and RELISH in your sorrows 

All my strait friends keep coming to me when they have questions about gay people and I’m just like

Guys, I am one lone lesbian.

I am not the lorax of the gays.

I do not speak for all the LGBTs