In a far off land where
Lions and bear
Roam around inciting no Fear

Where, the lion can be small
And the mouse big
And the unicorns can prance through halls

And the birds do not need to fly
Where mice don’t need to be afraid
And foxes have no need to be sly

Where the bloody past of the rabbit,
Is solemnly and regretfully acknowledge
By its many oppressors and killer in ways deemed fit

Where the fish can love the butterfly
And the leopard plays with the lamb
A world in where the sky

Is lit by the lights
Of ten thousand moths
Unworried about danger of sight

And in where the sparrows swim
And the fire burns in the lake
Where the conflict has at last

Been resolved in ways thought impossible.

Do you know what this means?
Or is this a confusing scene?
Refrain from a peek at the tags
See it when understanding snags.
Zero Nine Dec 4

We dream
we want
the awards you take
We dream
we buy
the hypocrisy
We dream
we want
the new days you describe
in your speeches

The soap box betrays you

Twitter. Tweeting. Facebook. Facade.
Insta. Instant. Dopamine rush.

If you could separate your self from the stage,
that would be great.
-- but if you're going to make a political statement
while accepting an award for your humanity,
you might want to think about what your
individual actions tell the world about you.

Who will listen?
Who will ask?
Looks like money once more
takes the last laugh.

Opulence. "Must be nice."

dear me in the 8th grade-

you haven’t even realized you like like boys yet.
you haven’t realized that all of those gay jokes are about you
so they don’t hurt your feelings, yet.
you haven’t seen what it’s like to be labeled as something, and also that the same label happens to be what everyone will know you as.
you didn’t realize that accepting yourself a lot sooner would’ve saved you a lot of memories you’d prefer to forget.

dear me in the 11th grade-

you’ve realized that after dating so many girls,
something just wasn’t really right.
you couldn’t pin-point it so you just ignored it.
maybe you thought love just wasn’t for you.
it wasn’t until that car ride with dad that you understood why everything was so confusing.
“be honest with me kid, are you gay?”
“oh fuck...”
it was something that hadn’t even crossed my mind.

dear me in my 3rd year of college-

you’re definitely gay.
you’re challenged by the fact that you can’t hold your boyfriends hand in public the same way that your sisters and their boyfriends can.
you hate that dating through apps like
grindr and tinder seem to be the
best way to find “love”.
however, you love the fact that you now know exactly who you are, and you are unapologetic.

Isabel Nov 24

I don't regret it
Being with you
My first best friend
My first girl crush
Well that's a lie
The first girl crush
I allowed myself
To acknowledge
Was you.
You scared me more
Than anyone before you
I lived on edge for months  
I don't regret the
Music we shared
And the times
We cried
And the times we
And the times when I was too scared to sleep because I thought I'd wake up to you having gone.
I don't regret loving you
Even though it hurts
And I hope you know
That I still care.
I will always care
I think.

I got feelings :/
Isabel Nov 22

Into the mirror I whisper
Grinning with the joy I sing  
The quiet reassurance
That nothing else can bring.

I grin because today
I look the part I play
I could pass as queer, I think
Just passably "a gay".

I smile and straighten my shoulders
(The only thing that's straight)
I let myself relax and smile
I think I was worth the wait.

Idk man I looked at myself and thought "wow if I were making generalizations and saw myself in the street, I'd be getting a whole lotta gay vibes off of me" and this happened.
Isabel Nov 20

Imagine being straight
What would that entail?

"I like men and boys and dudes.
I don't worry about stupid things
Like rainbow buttons
Or saying something wrong.
I flirt I float I know who I like
I know who will like me"

I can't imagine the certainty
I can't imagine the confines
I am not straight
And I'm happy with that.

Guess what I'm not straight
Sarah Nov 17

I have a stack of vinyls on my dresser.
Some of which I'll never listened to.
Because I thought I should buy
"Greatest Christmas Hits" for five dollars plus tax.

I have a stack perfume samples in my bottom drawer.
I rip them out from magazines,
Shut them in the darkness
Until they lose their scent.

I've always had a thing for stacks.
The way books look stacked on one another.
The way clothes stack up on my bedroom floor.
The way your freckles are stars stacked on your nose.

Last week I went to a bookstore.
It reeked of musk with shelves painted in titles of books
I will never read.
I walked, looking at most but touching one.

When I am with you,
I can't help but reaching for you
Because your skin is braille in the only
Book I picked out of the stacks.

Lauren Nov 16

It is everywhere
On the radio
In my friend’s eyes
Right in front of me

It is part of life
The happy ending to every book
Part of life’s plan
What makes us human

It is a milestone
The progression of dating
Then marriage
And children

It is society’s solution
The one for sadness
For mental illness
To keep going when the world falls apart

It is why I am different
Unable to relate to the subplots in movies
To my friend’s love lives
And will not ever have the option to

It is what the world will not understand
Why it calls me heartless
And vile

It is inescapable
In the name of who I am
The name of my community

It is the reason I feel alienated
Because love is love
But I cannot love
At least not in the way the world wants me too

Sometimes living as an aromantic person is hard. Just some thoughts on living in a world where romantic love is everywhere, but you can't feel it.
Isabel Nov 13

I'm in love with so many things
And people and feelings
And thoughts
And words
I don't know
Yet who or what
I love and maybe it really
Doesn't matter because I love
Who I am and who I want to be and
I think that's enough.

vic Nov 11

In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the hard work of a former student who wanted her club to feel loved
Thrown away and ripped apart just like our confidence.
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the scars on a kid’s wrist
Torn open and ripped apart until all of their pride bleeds out of their skin
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the suicides of my brothers, sisters, and siblings that don’t identify as either
Their memories tossed out and joked over as if their breath never breathed life into their former friends
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see another GSA meeting poster, ripped off the wall and tossed away
Because even our papers don’t get respect in these hallways

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