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#internalized
I learned God’s name before I learned my own I ask forgiveness for love that has never harmed anyone Sometimes I wonder if Jesus would recognize the fear we built in His name If He would sit beside me quietly while I learn to breathe without shame Some days I wonder if God is real at all or just a voice we invented to make us keep going but its making me want to stop If God is love then maybe one day I won’t have to choose between heaven and myself
0
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 12:39 PM UTC
higher
My dear friend. I have learned much from you, Mostly, I have learned to be free. I remember the shame of my queerness, I had excepted it- not embraced it. *** warped my brain at a young age, I blocked it out. You were out experiencing, You found joy in forbidden kisses, just like I once did. For a time I lived vicariously, Tonight I changed. Met with an older man, pleasured him, and left, This time was different. I felt that freedom that I had never felt, The freedom I saw in you. Now I sit, writing, My heart smiles because I understand I’m home. I’m home in my skin, I’m home in my queerness. Finally. Thank you good friend, Goodnight.
0
Nov 16, 2025
Nov 16, 2025 at 11:50 PM UTC
Comfortable Queerness
It waits until I’m almost steady. Not at rock bottom ~ that’s too predictable. It prefers the moment I reach for light with both hands. That’s when it speaks. “Cute,” it coos, “You really thought clarity made you real.” It doesn’t shout. It purrs, low and syrupy, like a lullaby laced with glass. It knows every version of me; the ones I buried to be digestible. It built this mind like a haunted house and hands me the key every time I dare to leave. “You always did mistake coherence for truth,” it says, dragging its nails along the walls of my thoughts. “So good at talking. So bad at existing.” I flinch. It recites memories I forgot to be ashamed of. Plays tapes I didn’t know I recorded. Slows down the faces, the pauses, the ones who humored me and didn’t mean it. “Look at them smile. Look at you, lapping it up.” It paces. It prowls. It pulls up a chair when I sit with someone and dare to feel seen. Leans in and whispers, “They’re just being kind. You’re not that hard to pity.” It keeps me tense. It’s not a villain. It’s a roommate. It knows my schedule, my preferences, my tells. It trims my self-trust like dead ends from hair. Efficient. Unemotional. Necessary. And when I resist ~ when I say No, I felt that, I meant that, it doesn’t argue. It just tilts its head and says, “You really do crave applause for surviving, don’t you?” Then it goes quiet, knowing I’ll crawl back the second I start to question what’s mine and what’s performance. Because between the two of us, only one of us ever sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.
0
Jul 31, 2025
Jul 31, 2025 at 11:47 AM UTC
You Don’t Get to Be Sure
It waits until I’m almost steady. Not at rock bottom ~ that’s too predictable. It prefers the moment I reach for light with both hands. That’s when it speaks. “Cute,” it coos, “You really thought clarity made you real.” It doesn’t shout. It purrs, low and syrupy, like a lullaby laced with glass. It knows every version of me; the ones I buried to be digestible. It built this mind like a haunted house and hands me the key every time I dare to leave. “You always did mistake coherence for truth,” it says, dragging its nails along the walls of my thoughts. “So good at talking. So bad at existing.” I flinch. It recites memories I forgot to be ashamed of. Plays tapes I didn’t know I recorded. Slows down the faces, the pauses, the ones who humored me and didn’t mean it. “Look at them smile. Look at you, lapping it up.” It paces. It prowls. It pulls up a chair when I sit with someone and dare to feel seen. Leans in and whispers, “They’re just being kind. You’re not that hard to pity.” It keeps me tense. It’s not a villain. It’s a roommate. It knows my schedule, my preferences, my tells. It trims my self-trust like dead ends from hair. Efficient. Unemotional. Necessary. And when I resist ~ when I say No, I felt that, I meant that, it doesn’t argue. It just tilts its head and says, “You really do crave applause for surviving, don’t you?” Then it goes quiet, knowing I’ll crawl back the second I start to question what’s mine and what’s performance. Because between the two of us, only one of us ever sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.
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52
it's raining today. i can't see it, though the raindrops creep in under my skin, water flooding me from inside, where was i going with this except that the drops are asking questions about things i was so sure of, until now. what am i to you. what am i to me, isn't rain supposed to cleanse ? i'm still so *****
0
Mar 1, 2021
Mar 1, 2021 at 4:22 AM UTC
Untitled
tell me, in a gunfight, what is the probability of two bullets being fired at once? (2/6, i know, i calculated) because i still capitalize the g in God, and i still pray every night for... the chance that i'll stop loving you (the chance that one day you'll turn around and see me there, waiting for you) and, in a gunfight, what is the probability of two bullets colliding (i already know- i just wanted to hear your voice) my knees are sore, and this carpet is itchy but i still have 6 Hail Marys left and i still miss you more than anything 275,000,000- that's how many stars die in a day / that's also how many stars are born in a day isn't that cool? i looked it up just for you i'm finished all my prayers, my knees are still sore, i climb into bed, my heart still aches, i turn off the lights. n.o
0
Aug 3, 2019
Aug 3, 2019 at 4:28 PM UTC
leo—
if i tried to predict the future if i gazed into a crystal ball i would see nothing but my sutures and hear not a hopeful call my shipwrecked bones will shatter my heart will fragment and fall but through the former and the latter i'll make sure nobody knows it all
0
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 4:47 PM UTC
one way mirror