Someone Help I’ve Got No Dang Clue How To Use The Tags

i wanna use this for something but idk what

I’M NOT ALONE

Question.

Is it just me or does every lgbt+ person do that eye contact thing?

Ya know

You catch their eye and the whole time your brain is thinking

“Shes defiently a lesbian. Is she? Maybe. I should just make eye- oh shes looking at me. Just nod and smile. Maybe she’ll know I’m also lesbian”

That eye contact thing

Because I do it alot

I just realized that I actually have people who care about what I have to say. Thank you 2019-isbitingmeintheass, falloutchemicalveils, and chriswallastattoos.

BILL NYE can’t stress the importance of Climate Change enough

I just realized it’s pan visibility day! 💖💛💙

My first art post! Their name is Jay Clubs. They’re part of a story I’m working on that’s got a card theme to it. They’re non-binary, bi, and the Jack of Spades (I’ll explain that in the next post)

cloak girl, aka drum major in A Light in Darkness, if you see this, you’re cool and i was too fucking socially awkward to say anything to you at the bake sale so i just sat on my phone

A dysphoria venting poem

Again, and again / I find myself in / these places / and spaces / where I can’t help but almost stare / and compare / and silently cry in despair / because all the girls around me / are so pretty / and then you’ve got me / in my hoodie / who just got a haircut / which is ok but / i feel like there’s no way / anyone would ever say / that i look as good as they / do. Inside my little closet / my prison / that traps me inside it / and I have to hide / and lie / and say that I / am completely fine / but inside / I’m dying / and I want to start crying. / It’s awful. / And it’s all / around. The way / that they / just talk / and walk / and do anything / just makes me want to say something / but would they think / I was worth their time? / Would I even be worth a dime? / I cry inside my closet of pain.

I just realized something. One moment I basically pour my heart out into a poem, then the next I’m posting about how humans are basically just cucumbers with anxiety. If you have ever wanted a perfect description of my personality, that’s it.

A dysphoria venting poem

Again, and again / I find myself in / these places / and spaces / where I can’t help but almost stare / and compare / and silently cry in despair / because all the girls around me / are so pretty / and then you’ve got me / in my hoodie / who just got a haircut / which is ok but / i feel like there’s no way / anyone would ever say / that i look as good as they / do. Inside my little closet / my prison / that traps me inside it / and I have to hide / and lie / and say that I / am completely fine / but inside / I’m dying / and I want to start crying. / It’s awful. / And it’s all / around. The way / that they / just talk / and walk / and do anything / just makes me want to say something / but would they think / I was worth their time? / Would I even be worth a dime? / I cry inside my closet of pain.

ack i need to post more than once a freaking month