SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK!
There's differences, people. I've been told so many times that my sexuality "doesn't exist" or that I'm "just bisexual." Like, uh no?
I have friends who are pansexual and they themselves have said that "it's just easier to say bisexual" but like, there's a difference, so. Why would you tell people you are, what you aren't?
Also, I hope you all had a good week, sorry I've been so inactive, my phone broke, and I've been sick. Just remember that it's Friday tomorrow! ~💙 -------
#bisexual #pansexual #pride #pansexualpride #bisexualpride #lgbt #lgbtpride #lgbtq #lgbtq
🌈 #lgbtqi #lgbtqia #lgbtqiap
I find myself stuck.
I can't quite move.
I can't wiggle myself out.
I'm facing some kind of wall.
I'm logged between two very large tomes.
The one to my left is a chronicle of my past transgressions.
The one to my right is a guide to the anxieties that are fueled by my uncertain future.
Right in the middle, right where I am, is an incomplete piece.
I have to wiggle myself out of this hellhole.
I did it.
It was a bad idea.
I fell flat on my face and the dust on my back where my blurb sits shed with the impact.
After the dust blizzard settled and slowly blended in with everything else, my blurb could finally be read. It says:
"My darkest days are new moons.
My day's window pane is a cocoon.
My mornings and afternoons are not in tune with Light.
The Light I do manage to get is filtered. It is a projection -- a refraction -- that I cannot use.
I want my perspective to be shifted,
I am shaking within my shell." The blurb is correct.
But it needs to be updated.
I WAS shaking within my shell.
The impact of my fall
Made my shell shatter.
Light is indeed getting through to me now.
Except, in my twisted reality,
Instead of nourishing my rebirth, The Light is frying me like an egg.
Once it flips me over to a scramble,
My title reads:
"I'll Forever be Food to the Monsters Inside of Me."