=== ANCHOR POEM ===
◀─[BOOST]
  
  @user-800 Interesting thread.                                               
                                                                              
  I consider myself a "bulb" sort of trans person, and I really appreciate your gentleness in pointing out that not everyone was an egg.   
                                                                              
  As a bulb, I continually put forth green shoots, suggestions that I was who I was. I tried many times, and each time I was mown down. Until finally one day I burst through, lasted through the mowing, and managed to blossom.   
                                                                              
  I knew from a young age, and tried to tell my parents. When they said not to talk about it, I didn't. But it didn't stop me from expressing it: we could never go to the home of my parents' friends who had daughters, because Every. Single. Time. I would end up in her clothing. Without fail. I was compulsive.   
                                                                              
  In the late 60s, early 70s, this was...frowned upon.                        
                                                                              
  So I got mowed. And again. And again. Until finally I got away from my parents, said "I need to do what I need for me, not for other people", and I transitioned.   
                                                                              
  And it cost me everything. My job, my education, my home, my friends, my family.   
                                                                              
  Still the best decision I ever made, and I would make it again the same way 100 times out of 100.   
                                                                              
  If you're wondering? If you've wondered if you can do it? Told yourself you'd be too ugly, you're too old, you could never pass, all the things we doom ourselves with?  
                                                                              
  If you want to be a girl, or a boy, or a nonbinary person, or agender or genderfluid or any of the other billions of ways to be, *you can do it*.   
                                                                              
  The only criterion really is: do you wanna? You don't need to be hetero (but you can be!), you don't need dysphoria (but you can have it), you don't need to think you were born in the wrong body (but if you do...). You just need to want to.   
                                                                              
  And if you know you're trans for sure, but can't face that first day...it gets easier. In time. It gets easier.   
                                                                              
  Good luck, siblings.                                                        
  
                                                            
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─▶

=== SIMILARITY RANKED ===

--- #1 fediverse/2169 ---
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 @user-570 
 
 Ah, well, that time period for me was after I came out, so I was already past
 the fear of being seen.
 
 I could only ever really get the "girl thoughts" to go away with, um,
 self-directed sexual attention, so I would often do so. Once every day, no
 more than once. But... often for hours at a time. It was a LOT, but I resisted
 as best I could, the only way I knew how, until eventually my internals would
 overcome.
 
 ... anyway "girl thoughts" were just "my thoughts" I was just too much of a
 dumbass to tell.
 
 Like, I knew I was trans, but I didn't want that, because it felt like a flaw.
 Because that's what I knew, that's what I'd heard, and that's how it felt, to
 be denied the consistency of biology and person.
 
 I would never go back. I love who I am, and I think if I had met me I would
 have adored who I'd become.
 
 I just... didn't think about the future much, hyper-vigilant much? Yeah.
 totally. I get it.
 
 I've never overdone things. At least not to a dangerous degree. It's mostly
 just... stuff to me.
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--- #2 fediverse/1399 ---
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 ┌───────────────────────────────────┐                                            │
 │ CW: cursing-mentioned-eye-contact │                                            │
 └───────────────────────────────────┘                                            │
 If you're worried about passing, take what you're good at and make it gay.       │
 Do you wear band t-shirts and black jeans? Great you're an emo girl now,         │
 totally reasonable transitionary state before you end up as a cute anime girl    │
 with spinny uwu dresses or whatever your heart desires                           │
 do you generally stick to jeans and sweatshirts? Okay congrats you're just as    │
 cute, don't feel inadequate just because you like being comfy. Hell yeah         │
 you're cute as fuck, you know you are, I mean just look at that smile! Wow damn  │
 like, switch the gender, not the vibe. not only will other people be cool with   │
 it but also, like, you won't alter the course of your trajectory.                │
 unless that's what you want, but TBH if you're both enigmatic AND phlegmatic     │
 [EDIT: but like the opposite of phlegmatic, I always get the definition wrong]   │
 then you can change a lot and people won't rely on you to be a certain way.      │
 ... you know you can delete things before you post them, right? Ha I've never    │
 even heard of the word.                                                          │
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--- #3 notes/hey-hope-you-know-me-if-not-Ill-be-perturbed ---
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 hi, so... yeah I'm a strange person
 
 it's tough to get to know me
 
 and this probably feels cringe to read
 
 but I once heard you should kill the part of you that cringes
 
 so... here's me
 
 I'm 
 
 ================================================== stack overflow
 ==============
 
 ... where was I? oh yes and THAT's when the nail went through the roof, and it
     scared the heck out of... wait, what was I talking about? OH yes so anyway
 
 I was born in the cool summer of 1864 - there was a rustling breeze that held a
 steady note for the entire evening, and into this world I arose. [awoke?]
 
 my mother held me but for a moment before I was whisked away to be cleaned and
 cared for. this was unusual for the time, as most mothers clutched their
 children to their breasts. But alas, I alone was spared her touch, and so I was
 cast (as if in bronze) as my own volition.
 
 as I had grown, I heard tales of distant times, and assumed they were places
 you
 could go. Then, when my time came to wander, I found nought of what I had grown
 most fonder - though I did find plenty else, besides.
 
 Instead, times are places we travel through, as a cripple might ride on a cart.
 across the sea, through lands of mystery, viewable only from the road. In 1864
 that's how other lands you'd come to know.
 
 As I travelled from place to place, it felt as if a stage had been cast, with a
 single actor or three illuminated as a spotlight. "Here, pay attention to me,
 I'm here for the story and the plot!" though often I'd glance around, and hear
 mostly my own thoughts, I grew to learn to appear.
 
 different themes, different tales, if you want to see a most marvelous scene,
 take a baby to Disney World and only pay attention to what they're looking at.
 
 My grandfather worked there, so in my first year or so I spend a LOT of time
 there. My parents were very dedicated to raising me, I appreciate every moment
 of it. Which... Is probably not a good thing to say on a transfemme server,
 oops I should delete that part
 [esc->k->k->k->0->v->shift(held)->G->$->"->*]
 
 also I should mention I'm stoned as fuck this is just what I do
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--- #4 fediverse/5330 ---
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 ┌──────────────────────────────────┐
 │ CW: personal-sexuality-mentioned │
 └──────────────────────────────────┘


 I used to be aroused at the thought of being a girl. I would read stories and
 look at pictures of penises turning into vaginas and men turning into women
 and it would fill me with longing, yearning, and despair at my circumstances.
 
 then, I transitioned, got SRS, and now I don't get aroused at the thought of
 such things. It's just part of who I am.
 
 I used to be aroused at the thought of wearing diapers. I would read stories
 and play games of people being cursed by witches to pee their pants, or people
 who were stuck at a movie theater and couldn't make it in time or whatever.
 These things would fill me with longing, yearning, and despair.
 
 Plus, I had some medical issues that made me lose track of my... um,
 "currently utilized waste storage capacity" inside my body. which put me in
 some unfortunate situations right around the time when my sexuality was
 developing.
 
 Now, I wear diapers all the time. I don't get aroused at the thought of such
 things anymore. It's just me, as I am.
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--- #5 fediverse/972 ---
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 for those who live forever in our transhumanist reality, I wonder what's next
 beyond transgender transition? transcendence of social norms is a skill, not a
 habit. Queer is a rejection of normalcy, something that is actively done.
 What's more normal than never having any fun? Clearly "normal" isn't built for
 the human condition, clearly "normalcy" is shallow and been done.
 
 considering the amount of people who are really into some culture like
 "anime-cons" or "baseball watcher" or "golfer" or "other such hobbys like
 fishing or guns"
 
 ... normal never existed, it's just a collection of personalities (developed
 throughout the history of humanity) that collectively seem to be fun.
 
 "if transitioning is to gender as blossoming is to [the concept of] flowers,
 then what is the concept of global warming to the earth we stand on?"
 
 I'm kind of a witch. I'm not really femme, so I don't feel right calling
 myself one of them, but I'm something of the sort. I use "she/her" pronouns
 because they reflect my softness of c
a screenshot of the last snippet of the post, that was removed due to going 54 characters over the word limit.  "I use "she/her" pronouns because they reflect my softness of composure. Wait, what did you think I was going to say?"  this snippet was attached as a screenshot of the bottom part of the post.
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--- #6 notes/i-miss-you ---
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 Hey. How've you been? It's rough when you're not around. I'm scared all the
 time, and I worry about you. I hope you keep yourself safe. I'd love to spend
 time with you too, because each moment is a moment spent alive. Please know
 how much I love you - it's my favorite emotion and I give it freely. There are
 certain considerations to make whenever applying a direction to your affection,
 or anger, mistrust, compassion, humor, sentimentality, melancholy, and fear
 toward. You must take into account any long term goals you have, such as
 exploitation and
 
 Sometimes I wonder if my dysphoria isn't just an extreme form of self
 esteem issues. I mean, what if you just feel really bad about yourself and you
 don't know why. That'd be a rough time, right? Like it's seared into your DNA
 to be this way, and you have to find a way around it. That's a lot of
 responsibility, and all that resting on your shoulders is a lot to bear. But
 you manage, and it's admirable. I think you don't believe other's see your
 struggle, but they do. And they love you for your tenacity?
 
  - goodness. i don't know what to say. i am worried i lean on others too much,
    and i don't want to hurt anyone by being too close. a real or imagined fear,
    doesn't matter - it still guides my actions and my methods of interaction.
    i see what you're saying, i have to think about it.
 
 What's there to think about?
 
  - well, the idea that emotions are divisible simply because *time* is
    divisible. clearly you can only spend 5 hours a day with person X, and 4
    with person Y, and so on and so forth. if they all hung out together, then
    it's like you need an entire new persona to represent yourself in that
    particular crowd. just as you speak to your grandma differently than a
    close friend or a person of authority (like a judge) or any other type of
    relationship. that's why it's so weird when you see people out of context.
    like a teacher at a bar, or a cop at a wedding. each person wears a
    different mask in each encapsulated set of social relations, locations,
    roles, and circumstances. on and on continuously until
 
 I'd tell you I love you, but then I'd have to kill you.
 
 It was a spy book about a young lady who goes to high school and learns how
 to be a secret agent. It was popular in the 2000's for a brief period, but
 I've never heard anyone else who read it. Mostly because it was sort of a
 guilty pleasure for me, since I was in the closet. It felt like a power fantasy
 disguised as a 1st person account of the near term future (since it was written
 for people around middle school age) so
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--- #7 messages/1363 ---
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 God, I want to live with my people. These are not my people. I'm here for a
 reason, and I can't wait for this... Diplomatic journey? To be over. That's
 not even it, it's... Well, my girlfriend is working on a technology that has
 immense philosophical ramifications. It's natural to have... Whatever I am
 (angel?) it's natural to have angels assigned to such a task. Not to help or
 harm, just to sing.
 
 Yet my human self grows weary. These are not my people, they don't know how to
 be. But they don't listen to me. They despise me. They want me gone. I am
 feeling quite rotten in my heart and that's not a good sign.
 
 ... Breathe, she says to herself. It's okay.
 
 Its really not though. They could poison me. They could put lead in my food. I
 can't even feed myself anymore! I am at their mercy, yet somehow they could
 not care less about me. They'd forget me the moment I walked out the door.
 They don't even know anything about me. They don't respond to me. They don't
 laugh at my jokes. They don't speak to me. They forget I'm there. WHY AM I
 HERE she wails yet obviously she knows.
 
 I'm here because it is important for me to observe. Spirit of Life, I bear
 tidings. They would not listen to me, maybe you will.
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--- #8 fediverse/2172 ---
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 @user-570 
 
 I mostly spent my time on Reddit, which was much more isolating than IRC. I
 think I must have been drawn there because it felt like home - I was
 homeschooled on a farm, and Reddit kept me at the distance of an arm.
 
 it's funny, sometimes meeting a trans girl can make things "click". And
 sometimes being friends with one helps you work through things that you just
 can't tick
 
 [off your list of things to work on]
 
 habits you can kick? idk sometimes rhyming lies, and you have to break rhythm
 or pentameter or whatever.
 
 anyway I've always worn pants. I do dresses on special occasions, but dresses
 are hard(er) to ride a bike in. Plus, no pockets, and purses are easily
 stolen. At least with a pocket you can feel someone slip the exact same model
 as your phone into your pocket when you're least expecting.
 
 ... hypervigilance strikes again...
 
 I first transitioned in... 2014ish? I think? I don't really remember because I
 had so many more interesting things going on.
And the people around me were always more intersting to me than me.
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--- #9 fediverse/5811 ---
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 ┌────────────────────────┐
 │ CW: politics-mentioned │
 └────────────────────────┘


 only some people feel existential [peril/fear] at the concept of a trump
 presidency.
 
 I'm trans, I feel it so hard I considered sedition.
 
 it felt like a reasonable reaction. probably just means I've been calibrated
 to a certain level of revengeance through my knowledge of history and the arts.
 
 I learned so much about systems, I saw the inextricable truth of the merits of
 the design of capitolistic [shared societal conventions, but pronounced
 "conventions"]. I also learned of what it means to wield ideology as a weapon
 for mass power/cultural gains.
 I see now that no matter the merits or faults of any system, power accretes in
 the unworthy. They say this is because others they work with just don't want
 to deal with them anymore. This isn't always true, in-fact with stronger bonds
 the relationship is more secure [also true, but I said it earlier in the
 sentence].
 
 jeez, interrupt much?
 
 anyway, as I was saying, [wasting characters]
 okIlikewritngmastodonpostsitsagame2aimforzerocharactersrem
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--- #10 fediverse/839 ---
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 @user-596 
 
 honestly... I'd just talk to a therapist for a couple sessions. Like, yeah,
 they put that rule there because they want you to be safe. And in 2010 we
 didn't "get" it as much as we do now, so it wasn't seen as something you could
 just do. It wasn't really a demographic question to them, it was more
 medicalized.
 
 frankly I kinda preferred it that way, like... yeah. I'm trans, there's
 something wrong with me, please fix it by giving me the right hormones. Boom,
 easy, done.
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--- #11 notes/trans-rights-are-human-rights ---
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 "Being transgender is a mental illness" is something I've heard a lot. Online,
 in media, books, and at universities. But is it really? Well, do I not feel
 sick? Genuinely, every day. These words are far less common these days, having
 been defeated in the #marketplace-of-ideas, and for that I am grateful. I don't
 want to feel sick for my whole life. I'd love to be and feel normal, for just
 one single day.
 
     but it's never going to happen.
 
 I'm not so attached to my life, here, in this body. Bodies are temporary, they
 are the vessel with which we navigate the world. We use it to grow, change,
 learn, and create art. Without it, we'd be at a loss for sins and virtues.
 but they do not define us, not in our totality. We are the light that touches
 the world and for that, we are grateful. To be comprised of the dust of stars
 is the pinnacle of confinement. Though we are but pinpricks on the map of us,
 a ripple is emanated with every movement. The hand waves, the light bends.
 
     So to what do I owe the pleasure?
 
     In what way am I deceived?
 
 Reception is never great out in the forest. Or anywhere far from major
 population centers. The networks of our phones mirror the networks of
 transportation, creating a web of people - of signals - of light and
 information, carving their way through the ephemera that is the river of time.
 With distance we can see what once was mystery, and as all the words
 disappeared, we lost all our fears and we're left with our true forms.
 Centralized Processing Units are a bit like a city - in that respect free.
 
     silence is a virtue.
     the wandering mind is a trail to find,
     with no second chances.
 
 When I was a kid, I had a bouncy ball. I had several, but the one I remember
 most was black with a perfect white circle - inside the circle, a black jolly
 roger. I dreamt once of the arcs it made, as I walked down the streets of
 cities I never really knew. But as I walked on, an ocean of glass separating me
 from a mirror below. The me below would catch the bounce as it dropped from
 above, and I'd wait to catch it - but dreams are not prophecies, they are but
 the Mirror of Desire.
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--- #12 fediverse/4655 ---
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 sleep? yes. play? nah. work? yes. fae? nah. well, maybe, I don't know.           │
 one year is all it takes to change history. and, like, I think we should         │
 remember past history, but tomorrow is herstory, because that way each one       │
 gets half of the timeline. future, past, etc. too bad herstory doesn't roll      │
 off the tongue... shestory?                                                      │
 It's gonna get better before it gets done, and it'll get done until we're        │
 done. but, that's for tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, or in a week or    │
 two, who can say. Not I, surely not I, and I surely wouldn't want to. You need   │
 consent for that kind of thing, a clear commitment that me and my are ready      │
 and in line. I'm just a silly witch after all, who would look to the girl with   │
 the tall red pointy witch hat and go "oh yeah she probably knows exactly         │
 what's up" because like, I don't, I'm definitely just coincidencing my way       │
 through life and seeing where my feet lead me. Gosh I hope I get some            │
 sick-as-heck callouses my feet kinda hurt for some reason.                       │
 ... sleep, this is a sleep spell...                                              │
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--- #13 fediverse/711 ---
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 ┌──────────────────────┐                                                         │
 │ CW: trans-witches    │                                                         │
 └──────────────────────┘                                                         │
 they say witches are scary, and yeah they're not wrong                           │
 but they also say witches are ugly, and I think they just didn't have kind       │
 words for trans people back then.                                                │
 I mean, I'm gorgeous and so are you. I've no warts, nor green skin, but I do     │
 grow hair in unbecoming places. Like the tip of my chinny-chin-chin, and also    │
 on top of my toes.                                                               │
 they also say witches are magic, and I guess that's true (I suppose). I mean,    │
 I wear quite strange clothes, for a man at least. It's quite normal for a she,   │
 which is what I was meant to be, if only I was just born right.                  │
 Alas, oh well, I'll just take a little green pill, and BAM suddenly I've got     │
 huge boobs. Okay they're not huge, they're pretty normal. But C is larger than   │
 zero.                                                                            │
 they also say that witches write spells, and I sure do love to program. With     │
 my most familiar cat (who often does sleep in my hat), I find myself yearning    │
 for nuance.                                                                      │
 Meh, it's late at night, I think I'll think not of the plight, and instead       │
 just will dream of defusals. I don't know~                                       │
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--- #14 messages/1492 ---
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 I haven't been doing weed lately, which is why I haven't been posting as much.
 I want to be in a good position mentally to, idk, get a job or something? I
 swore I wouldn't, but I also swore to protect my art, and they don't want me
 here. What else can I do? I can't live with my parents or my sisters. I can't
 live with any of my exes. I can't live with randos who support me because,
 well, I'm doing that now, and they don't want me. Where would I even find
 people like that? I walk around Portland and I see people who are hardened.
 This makes sense to me. But I am soft, by design. I am soft so that they may
 be hard, and though I long to join them I cannot, for I must get stoned and
 write. I swore an oath. Yet somehow getting a job is the same thing? Like,
 it's pretty hard for me to get a job. Easy to work, hard to be employed. Can't
 do weed because it requires my full attention, yet I need to in order to build
 the foundations of a new faith. So the question is, do I work and get my own
 place, but not do weed and instead just write when I can (not as much), or do
 I try and power through where I'm at and trust that they won't poison me or
 kick me out? I think... I need to wait. I need to not do weed for now. So, I
 am going to work. But it won't be for someone else. How can I make money doing
 work, when it's my own work? If I could sell everything I made, I would have a
 fortune. I could bankroll a revolution if they paid a fair price. But selling
 it is the hard part... (I say that without pride or hubris - I legitimately
 believe that I have created a Great Work, and am continuing to add to it) so?
 How do I get my own place? The house I live in is free to me, I legitimately
 do love my girlfriend who I live with, but I am still in a tenuous position. I
 want to be alone so I can... Well, it's hard to take care of myself. I want to
 be alone so I can... Well, it's hard to be lonesome. I want to be alone so I
 can... Well, it's hard to get out of bed when you're going right to the
 computer.
 
 Maybe I don't want to be alone. Maybe I want to live in a house that loves me.
 The one that I'm in is haunted by a spirit that doesn't like it when I
 masturbate, which is... Okay. What if I ended all my poems like this?
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--- #15 fediverse/1124 ---
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 ┌──────────────────────────────────────────┐
 │ CW: re: Transposting, request for advice │
 └──────────────────────────────────────────┘


 @user-255 
 
 we are our own worst critics. But hey assuming he's right, trusting the
 validity of his experience, then I'd say:
 
 some people are born short and ugly, just gotta be confident and people will
 gravitate to you.
 
 "he may be an ugly son-of-a-gun but he's pretty good at [insert thing he's
 proud of being good at]" that kinda vibe
 
 though I will say there's very few truly ugly humans, we're all beautiful in
 our own ways. Just gotta find a presentation that you like and that aligns
 with the expression of your innermost form. That's how we express ourselves to
 the world in a way that others can understand and make sense of - the quality
 of our representation of our selves determines how it's perceived.
 
 especially for trans people... "passing" is essentially "how much does this
 person A. confine to gender norms and B. go above and beyond to hide parts of
 themselves that typically are associated with their opposite gender (the
 social role they were raised to perform)
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--- #16 fediverse/2993 ---
═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────────
 hey, listen, I'm here at this point in life just the same as you. who cares,
 right? like. nobody wants to see your personal development. You don't have to
 prove yourself. Like... why would you care so much about what other people
 (who you don't even know) care about what you do? like... it's fine. just...
 be.
 
 you can get better if you want, but only if you want. There's no reason to be
 so concerned about what other people thingc. Just, identify what and who you
 are, and then be the best what and who that you are. Thats really all there is
 to it.
 
 and yeah. It's totally unfair that some people get an easier shot at "being
 who and what they are"
 
 that's privilege, and that's stupid.
 
 okay, sure, maybe we should conceptualize how to adapt to specific situations
 when resources are limited
 
 but like... it should be something you consent to - like "no thanks I don't
 need the rocket launchers on this mis==sion==
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--- #17 messages/714 ---
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 I'm pretty sure we're all about to lose our heads. Or just be fucking shot in
 our beds. Homes lit alight, surrenders met with the knife, and the beginning
 of endless strife. What ends this night? Is there no end in sight? Thus begins
 our mortal plight.
 
 Give me a reason to be wrong. Trump has claimed he intends to invade canada,
 mexico, greenland... What the fuck is our plan? Are we seriously just going
 to. Recite poetry. Pretend to be secret agents. Play chess and drink coffee.
 Become exhausted organizing movie nights and potlucks. Work jobs doing nothing
 for nobody. Spend half our lives convincing people that they should care,
 actually, because reasons that don't apply to them but do apply to others.
 
 What the fuck is the plan? If there's some secret transgender militia out
 there, please, make me a lieutenant. Give me a sword that i might thrust into
 my enemies. Please, for the love of holy, i beg for a sign from the stars.
 Grant me power and i will deliver my people from harm - grant me vengeance and
 i will never forgive you, but i shall sleep easy - grant me death and woe and
 see my beauty fade from this earth.
 
 What is there left but tragedy? Please, i must know. I've tried my hardest.
 I've begged and I've pleaded. My calls fall on deaf ears, because everyone's
 so busy these days. Are they truly my people? Are they simply dead, actors,
 replaced by AI? The future was bright, i saw it truly. The future was kind, i
 felt it call to me. Is it still? I feel warmth and abaddon.
 
 I would replace persephone in hell if it meant sanctum and solace for my
 people. I care not for my soul, rather i care for the soul of those i tend to.
 Please, remember me. Remember the flowers. Remember what could have been, what
 still may yet be. There is hope for we, i truly believe. But please, do not
 keep me hoping. Tell me the truth of our arms, that i might find space in my
 heart of hearts. Space for hope, space for longing, space for the will to
 proceed.
 
 I am lost without you. I am lost by my own side. I am a savior for no people
 but those i keep inside. What chalice is this, what endless conveyals? What
 meaning is there in our country's betrayal? Are we not cherished? Are we not
 viewed as their equal? I pray that the stars will portend me.
 
 Mine is a sign of the changing tides, the proof is here in my travailles. But
 I, most aligned yet benign, demand the use of my most able. Give me a word of
 practicality and I'll show you the practice of their vipers - the blessed babe
 dies with a dagger in her heart, planted by the wound of her heartache.
 
 I trust in the silence of the majority. We await with bated breath the
 enslavement of posterity, gazing at the world through memes of deplority. How
 powerless we feel! Perhaps all we need is a meal. Have you eaten in the last
 16 hours?
 
 Purple is the intersection of black, red, and blue. I'm hungry. This poem is
 done.
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--- #18 fediverse/1094 ---
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 those who can cause harm in an ethical system are villains. They will always
 exist so long as someone is capable of being institutionally harmed.
 
 and no unethical system should exist. It's definition belies it's irrelevance.
 results matter, but a system is not unethical if it doesn't deliver.
 
 success begets greater responsibilities, and I've failed all my life. And yet
 the most masculine thing I can think of is to take responsibility for
 something you can handle. Essentially, doing as much as you are able.
 
 Guess it makes sense why I'm a trans girl. I've forsaken my masculinity
 because I've failed to take responsibility. T.T
 
 then a therapist jumps in and says
 
 I don't think it's healthy to think about parts of yourself being bought and
 sold in the market of success. You need to think of yourself collectively,
 like a body that is under duress. It's okay if you're not working, it's okay
 if you're just a little bit broke. It's okay that you're struggling, so long
 as you never forget your hope.
 
 then I say
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--- #19 fediverse/1090 ---
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 @user-800                                                                        │
 I knew I was trans from a young age. I felt attracted to women's clothes         │
 because I lived in a home with two sisters and a mother - my father was          │
 frequently away on business.                                                     │
 I guess I liked their clothes more. Or maybe I just wanted to fit in. But I      │
 found myself stealing them and wearing them when I was alone. Then I got         │
 older, and amongst all the other things I realized I wanted to be one of them.   │
 I knew what trans people were, sorta, but as soon as I moved to the city and     │
 got access to the internet the first thing I ever googled was "I want to be a    │
 girl" - really dating myself here I guess.                                       │
 anyway, I miss that part of the internet. Felt more simple and alive. As soon    │
 as their fancy websites made us intolerant of ugly ones, we kinda just...        │
 left? I mean, how much does it cost to host a text-file with all your html?      │
 Some pictures maybe? Who cares it was whatever.                                  │
 I miss forums the most, and while I could visit them... it's not the same,       │
 just as the next superbowl will not be the same as the last                      │
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--- #20 fediverse/4200 ---
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 ┌──────────────────────┐
 │ CW: drugs-mentioned  │
 └──────────────────────┘


 "doing too many drugs" is a traitorous act, abusive really, to your past self,
 and their hopes and dreams.
 
 or maybe your past self owes you a debt, for they never thought to think of
 you. What are you to aspire to if not the dreams of your past?
 
 and now you're here. wherever "here" is here...
 
 ...
 
 ... wait, you wanted me to talk? it's now! It's the present!
 
 ah nevermind. you were twelve years old when you first set eyes upon this game:
 
 https://youtu.be/qeNhQQXvpxQ
 
 bam, there ya go, there's yer story, he was gonna give all the imp balls to
 the last one at the end, to say "you were truly the strongest, here, have
 these precious stones of your kin"
 
 but he never got there, so they died with him, a thief.
 
 ... the end...
 
 (too final, I think - maybe we could spin it into a "part two"?)
 
 ah, I'll try I guess? dunno how. maybe he could wander the spirit world and
 find his traitorous body, the one that kept his soul as a home. Somewhere
 it'll turn up, and then he'll be ready and free from his roam...
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