Quick Writes

Writings Inspired By The World
Ver. 2 - March-June, 2021

Fluidity Is A Lie

June 23, 2021

My body is a liar, especially when it talks about its dysphoria. It tells me--“You’ll be okay with any pronouns”--and encourages me to wear what I want without caring about what society deems as Man vs. Woman but attacks me as soon as I act freely.My fluidity tells me that I don’t care how people perceive my gender but feels bad when all I receive are ladylike compliments. And the internalized misogyny I can’t seem to unlearn likes to spring up and pull me down, making sure that I can only see myself as one sex at a time, no exceptions, no in between.There are days where I can tell myself that I know I am not defined by my reproductive genitals and my body will accept it, but for the most part my brain floods with a panic as if I had said I am only a woman.And the same goes when I try to convince my mind to let me live with the joy of being a man. Something in between. Something that’s meant to be fluid but tricks you into thinking it is not. Fluidity is not as easy as it tells you it is, which causes more harm than good.Fluidity is a lie.

My Almost 9th Grade Identity Part 1

April 12, 2021

I remember the first time I liked a girl.It was around 4th grade. Since I was just a small kid and never had heard of the concept of being gay, I brushed it off thinking huh, that’s weird. Oh well.Then, I switched schools and went to a charter school, where I liked a boy, which made me think that I was normal. Until I liked another girl. Then a boy, then two more girls--and at that point I kinda paused and really went: yeah-no-maybe-something‘s-going-on-here.By now I was almost entering 7th grade, where I would have to switch over to middle school: the worst years of many people’s lives. And believe me when I say that, because the rough draft of this writing splurge came from my hormonal 8th grade self.The first label I used was pansexual, which I still use today. It’s the label that I feel most conforms to my sexuality.During this time I also used aromantic as a label since, though I had crushes and whatnot, I never imagined myself in a relationship with romantic feelings. I was satisfied with these labels and stuck with them for a good year and a half before I realized my attraction was fluid.Then I learned about aroflux.Aroflux is pretty much a fluid romantic attraction that usually stays on the aromantic scale. Think genderfluid, where someone’s gender drastically changes in random periods of time. It’s kind of the same, just in a different genre.But eventually, I couldn’t stand the physical unease of using aroflux as my label, so back to the internet I went searching for a new one.Abrosexual. It was aroflux, but for sexuality!They also both look like watermelon flags, which is pretty genius on the designers end. I ended up using that as my label for a few months, shortening it to “Abro” so I could explain that it applied to sexuality and romantic attraction.By the 3rd quarter of 8th grade though I felt more comfortable with using Pan as my label, and the adventure came full circle as I settled on Pansexuality.

My Almost 9th Grade identity Part 2

April 12, 2021

I wrote about my sexuality journey before, so now I’ve decided to write about my gender.It was a lot shorter and easier of a riddle to figure out, closing up nicely in about a few months. It began near the end of 8th grade, after I had decided to use Pan as my label.I had already known by then that I wanted to play around with pronouns. After a ton of broken down internalized misogyny, trying out being called “sir” or “handsome”, and referring myself as a they or it, I concluded… pretty much nothing.I didn’t care about pronouns, so I left it as an open ended question until the last month or so of school where I went “eh why not” and decided that I was open to all pronouns.I’m pretty lucky in regards to the group I've landed in, having friends that’ll unintentionally make my day by calling me an “it” or “he” as a playful sign of friendship.The possibility of changing the label I use in the future is large, I may even find a fitting micro-label for myself.For now though, I’m happy with where I am and so grateful to those who helped me learn about my self and listen to me today. Thank you.

New School

February 6, 2022

It feels like someone placed me on a mountain made for skiing, the days I enter a new school.But I don't know how to ski.And they didn't teach me anything except how to fall.Because they expected that of me.And they thought I would pick up the knowledge, learn the things I needed to survive, as I went downhill.Following my mental health.Following my self esteem.

Trauma

February 5, 2022

TW: suicidal implicationsI wrote this piece to try and describe the effects that come from letting yourself be free therapy at a developing age. Proceed with caution, do not force yourself to read what hurts you.
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The first time I had to save someone from a suicide attempt was when I was 13.You would think after dissociating the events unfolding years prior to the real-life scenario would prepare a person for the mental strength needed to do so, but I wasn't prepared.The terror made it hard to dial the calls that had to be made to save the person I cared about most.But now I look back with apathy I wish didn't exist. My memory fuzzes and secretly knows that moment wasn't the worst of it all. It confesses in the secret chambers of my mind that there were steps I could've done so differently to help the people I cared about so much more.Just at the cost of destroying myself.Which I refuse to do now, but wasn't so inclined to decline back then.Having someone close to you be suicidal is much worse than that though...It's being scared of what you say. Living off of a script and doing anything, anything at all costs to appease them.It's the overwhelming fear that occurs when they confess to having a bad day, because you become addicted to helping them out above the standard you hold yourself to maintaining.I stuck to the program and didn't stray because I couldn't bear with the potential consequences.For a time I lived as the life support of anyone who needed me.I gave away my livelihood and tricked myself into believing I could thrive off of other people's happiness.For a time I...
Let myself fall behind.
Gave away opportunities.
Took jokes in a different way,
had to make sure that the jokes they made were truly jokes.
Stopped having comebacks to insults,
lest what come out of my mouth be a weapon to the stability of those around me.
Cowardly fell to the easy route,
because laughing is easier than crying.For a time I...
Said nothing against the insults that pierced my heart.
Let insecurity grow until I was but obedient and quiet.
Didn't understand compliments targeted at me,
didn't see how people could be interested in myself as a person.
Was someone I smothered,
because of the fear of standing too tall and making others feel smaller than me.For a time I...
Did my best not to laugh at anyone's jokes.
Stayed emotionless to avoid the misunderstandings from others.
Hid behind the glowing screen I was so madly glued to and did the only thing I was good at:
comfort, adviceFor a time I...
Hypocritically took care of others as if it was my dying duty.
Found "sorry" to be the easiest word in any language I could speak.For a time I...
I...
Fell to the level of apathetic despair I thought was unobtainable.Because having a suicidal friend meant that you stopped reacting to sayings like:
"I'm going to kill myself."
or
"God I want to die."
But also meant that you panicked from things like:
Witty responses to jokes.
or
Slightly dark humor.Because having a suicidal friend means forgetting how to separate jokes from reality. Flipping a switch that your reasonable counterpart fails to understand.I was a dog to be summoned;
Online at all times.
Available at any moment.
Isolated to prevent from distraction.
A support system without one of my own.Yet, I told myself I was calm because I need to be.Which backfired, because even therapists need therapy.In my heart there was no gardener so the seeds of it grew untended. I had prepared a present for myself in a box without a label; but it had its own name. _Trauma.

Failing The Eye Exam

March 14, 2021

For a really long time I was a perfectionist.I think I’m more lax now, even though I’d say that really I’m just burnt out and sick of caring about assignments that don’t peak my interest, but that’s besides the topic.I'd get extra credit at every chance I can. I shot for perfect scores on every assignment I could get my hands on. I had 126 as my grade in health science at one point and still wanted to get a 127 so the numbers would be “more appealing” and “successfully looking”. Whatever that meant.That wasn’t even what made me realize that I had perfectionist tendencies though, what made me realize it was going to the eye doctor.I have glasses. I don't often wear them because I’m not a big fan of them and my eyesight is still good enough that I can see well enough to traverse through the world. But I do have glasses.I’ve had them for a few years, actually, right now I have a total of 3 pairs. Haven’t worn any of them long term but you know what I mean.I’m pretty sure that I needed them prior to getting prescribed for a set. The reason why I didn’t get glasses before that point was because I cheated. (I truly hope my eye doctor doesn't see this.) I’d memorize the chart and get the highest score I could based off my memory because I was so scared of failing.And then I did.And it was… actually not that bad at all. I don’t really know why I built up to it like it was a dramatic event.Plus I could actually read the board during classes where I sat in the back.It taught me a few lessons. Don’t purposely fail stuff, but also let yourself make mistakes. Forgive yourself, because failing builds your character. And in my case, it also grew my unused glasses collection.But yeah, failing isn’t as bad as people make it to be. Breathe a bit, ask for help, you're better off when you have the resources you need.

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