Today was filled with all sorts of slice-of-life-in-the-summertime type mishaps, but I felt and looked good today and enjoyed my share of fleeting positive human interactions and a cute girl winked at me on the train so I mean
I do not think that looking “feminine” and “delicate” are mutually exclusive. I have internet stalked your modelling for years and I’ve always found you delicate, if androgynous/handsome/etc. I hope that’s not a strange thing to say.
I’m humbled that you’ve stuck with me and my various manifestations for so long, but your descriptors are too generous (read: modeling). That aside, nothing amiss at all! I’ve had some crazy adventures in dysmorphia, so your affirmation in addition to my own warms me.
I looked immaculate last night, like a prince dressed for a suborbital space gala. A cute girl said I was perfect (at my aggressive denial), and some male pleib tried to pick me up and my handsome face was the perfect balance of disgust and wrath, calibrated at the perfect angle
I carry artificial optimism through the unending locomotion of day-to-day obligation and survival, but when I’m lying in the dark at the end of the night with only the sound of the blood in my ears, I so wish to dissolve into the vacuum of space.
My partner was diagnosed with an incurable autoimmune disease today.
I’ll be starting a fundraiser. Thanks to a small and growing group of heartbreakingly generous and talented creatives, I will be offering my zine (currently in development), and my services in Graphic Design to reward donations.