graveyardroses

[graveyardroses]

a ramble about gay panic

there is nothing more terrifying than uncertainty. 

it acts as a parasite. it digs through your stomach and you feel like you’re falling. the dangerous kind of freefall. the one where you could hit the ground at any time. in a split second, someone can look at you and understand what you’re desperately trying to conceal. 

so you walk a different path to school. you stay in the old, musty cafeteria, in a darkened corner where no one can hear you thoughts. you drink hot tea out of a thermos. it scalds your throat. you think of her and you try to push the thought away, because suddenly you’re falling again. the fear binds you in its clutches. it holds you tight enough that your breath evaporates into nothing. you choke in the corner of the old, musty cafeteria and there is nothing anyone can do, because they don’t notice you, and that’s what you wanted. 

except on the last day of school. some part of you, some part that’s been shoved deep and erased over and over again, agrees to get lunch with people you wouldn’t yet consider friends. 

you walk. and suddenly, she joins them. you walk as far behind as you can. you’re not breathing you’re not breathing you want to keel over with this pure, terrifying feeling.

the moments are slow and drowned out and you’re afraid to look at her. you won’t let yourself look at her because girls aren’t supposed to want to kiss other girls and it doesn’t matter that you don’t think you’re one, anyway. you won’t look at the NASA logo on the shirt she’s wearing and you won’t wonder if she likes space, you won’t consider that you might have something in common because then you’ll want to talk to her and you can’t talk to her. 

you reach the dunkin’ donuts and order a coffee. you realize that there’s only four seats on the table and four places. she moves aside and gestures for you to bring up a chair. 

you’re falling again. you can’t let her know. if you look at her, she’ll know. if you walk towards her, she’ll know. 

you freeze and your chest stops moving up and down and you almost drop your coffee.

but your body moves like a machine. you drag a chair up and your heart beats faster than normal, you’re about to have a heart attack, you’re about to have a stroke. 

the table is tiny and there’s not enough room so you have to move closer to her and you’re afraid, you’re so very afraid, because you want to hold her hand and run your fingers through her hair and kiss her and girls aren’t supposed to want to kiss other girls and it doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re one, anyway. 

and suddenly, it’s over. you walk to the train station. you go home. you drink some water. and you never see her again.

[graveyardroses]

in need of other writeblrs to follow! my dash is dead. reblog and follow me if you want to be mutuals :)

[graveyardroses]

remembering is like pouring just-boiled buckwheat tea down my throat i can never tell if the powder melting into the water is sugar or cyanide

yesterday i clutched the bodies of small red spiders beneath my fingers. i thought of him. i dropped their corpses on the ground, dropped my hands with it, because i can’t rub off the remnants of your dead skin cells.

sometimes i pull out my tarot cards. i wipe them with cloth again and again. your fingerprints remain. see, i didn’t think i’d recall the tone of your voice, see, i didn’t think i’d speak ever so quietly afraid of your yell when you aren’t even here anymore but are you?

[graveyardroses]

also consider:

everyone be quiet i’m thinking

[graveyardroses]

Not all enbies are skinny. Not all enbies are white. Not all enbies are neurotypical. Not all enbies are completely androgynous.

Destroy the stereotype that enbies have to be white. Destroy the stereotype that enbies have to be skinny. Destroy the stereotype that enbies have to be neurotypical. Destroy the stereotype that enbies have to be completely androgynous. Destroy harmful stereotypes. Destroy racist stereotypes. Destroy ableist stereotypes. Destroy fatphobic stereotypes. Destroy enbyphobic steryotypes.

Enbies can be black. Enbies can be Hispanic. Enbies can be Asian. Enbies can be Indian. Enbies can be Indigenous. Enbies do not have to be white. Enbies can be chubby. Enbies can be fat. Enbies can be overweight. Enbies can have eating disorders. Enbies do not have to be skinny. Enbies can be autistic. Enbies can have mental disorders. Enbies can be neurodivergent. Enbies do not have to be neurotypical. Enbies can be feminine. Enbies can be masculine. Enbies can fluctuate. Enbies can alter their physical appearance completely or not at all. Enbies do not have to be completely androgynous.

[graveyardroses]

I am drowning in debt

Ken. 19. brown latine. disabled. austistic. trans nonbinary. bi.

I owe my former school over $10,000. I am $300 behind on my payments.  

I  hate doing this again but I can’t pay back my debt because I am   unemployed. I usually  work remotely, due to my agoraphobia and disability, doing freelance  translations and academic tutoring, but I haven’t gotten any jobs lately  because of the covid crisis. If I don’t pay what I  owe soon, the college will sell my debt to a bank and I would owe them 33% more than I owed the college.

Please help me out or reblog my post.

Venmo  ♢ CashApp   ♢ PayPal ♢   GoFundMe

$0/$300 as of 6.18.2020

[graveyardroses]

5? 👀

already got the 5 ask here but thank you al

[graveyardroses]

oh bc i owe u one: 5, and also i want to see them. and 6!!! feels relevant to my general vibe

5: what would be on a moodboard for your current wip(s)?

i made the moodboard - i’m working on a novel centering around two teenage boys at an orphanage. here you go:

6: epistolaries or straight text?

for my writing style, it’s neither, more like an uncapitalized prose poem that somehow forms things that look like paragraphs.

to read, epistolaries. they’re my (or at least, one of my) favorite books. 

[graveyardroses]

writing style asks

1. “proper” punctuation or all lowercase?

2. less is more or more is more?

3. “said”-- overused or underused?

4. which famous/currently published author’s style is closest to your own?

5. what would be on a moodboard for your current wip(s)?

6. epistolaries or straight text?

7. if your wip became a movie, who would score it?

8. which season best matches the mood of your wip(s)?

9. how’s tolkien’s writing style? (bc literally every author i know has an opinion on this)

10. does your writing style change depending on the genre you write?

11. if you could have another author write your wip for you (bc we all dream of this occasionally), who would it be?

12. sarcastic narrators-- entertaining or overdone?

13. do you notice your own voice in your writing style?

14. how has your writing style changed over the years?

15. first, second, or third person?

16. worst/weirdest criticism you’ve received on your writing style?

17. something you use a lot in your writing but didn’t notice until it was pointed out?

18. a cliché thing you use in your writing?

19. do you hear other people’s writing styles when they talk?

20. do characters influence your writing style?

21. dialogue or description?

22. do you describe a character’s appearance all right away or in pieces?

23. prologues or epilogues?

24. is your style typical for its genre?

25. do you physically describe love interests differently than other characters?

26. romantic/social sideplots-- interesting or irritating?

27. abstract or detailed romance scenes?

28. would your wip(s) become banned?

29. sarcastic first person or sarcastic third person? (it has been done)

30. what don’t you like about your writing style?

[graveyardroses]

i walk with ghosts. we tread lightly, and the ticket man is somewhere across the cobblestone and he’s carrying a bell, clanking it against the counter and i can’t see my shadow anymore but did i have one, anyway?

i think: my life on a 70 millimeter movie roll, refilmed and refilmed, when i was a child i made up stories about who i was, when i was older, i taped them.

how could i film my life when it was made up of scratched black and white photographs, spilled fix liquid on the frames, tucked away godknowswhere with hands-chewed-off stuffed animals that won’t fit in the garbage can

the ticket man’s ringing the bell, it’s my turn, i step up grab the ticket and shove it in my pocket, i’m not scared of my life, but i know that a child who’s suffered, a child who carries their history on their limbs is a child who can never matter to anyone but the kindest people and kindness is rare as hell

i walk into the room, sit down, the projector starts up, the reel spins and it spins and it spins and the film is running out and the spool is growing smaller and it turns again and again, i watch see-through figures in the background, see them sitting next to me as i watch myself unravel.

[graveyardroses]

“Police will not investigate due to lack of public interest”

What the actual FUCK

[graveyardroses]

⚧ here are some black trans folks you can donate to directly. ⚧

if you can’t donate, please boost:

+ jacob’s top surgery

+ maya’s transition fund

+ black trans artist getting top surgery

+ shane’s top surgery

+ clarabelle’s gender affirmation fund

+ help black trans women artist survive

+ sasha’s housing fund

+ merci’s medical transition

+ key’s transition fund

+ gwendolyn’s transition fund

+ help luca get top surgery

+ zaire’s top surgery fund

+ ahren’s top surgery

+ financing bambi’s facial feminization surgery

+ help sai start her new life

+ lucas’s transition fund

+ help li raise funds for top surgery

+ help a homeless black woman escape violence

+ help a black trans artist with her gender confirmation

black trans lives matter. ♡ happy pride month.

[graveyardroses]

Can you write a poem with the line "and the only things that held her together were tape and glue." ?

there’s a dead girl in the pool again (and the only things that hold her together are tape and glue) why did no one see this coming? why did he hit the ground like a storm, there’s a dead girl in the pool again, and he’s holding the knife.

did you know this was going to happen? i think you did, somewhere, somehow, you knew he would come back. don’t let them make you apologize when the blood is on his hands.

so, dear dead girl, wash the blood off of your chest, you are stronger than you think, get a glass of water, and breathe.

[graveyardroses]

boys wearing dress is fine boys wearing dresses as a joke is transmisogyny boys wearing makeup is fine boys wearing makeup as a joke is transmisogyny boys being feminine and girls being masculine is fine boys being feminine and girls being masculine as a joke is transmisogyny

[graveyardroses]

THIS IS URGENT! 

chrystul kizer is a black teen who was sex trafficked. she killed her traffickers to escape and is being charged with life in prison. her hearing is TOMORROW! and her family still needs about $10,000 more to get an attorney and pay bail. you can sign a petition for her charges to be dropped here and you can donate to the fund her mother set up here. please, please reblog this like wildfire today. her fucking life literally depends on it. 

[graveyardroses]

Credit @/furbyrose on Twitter

Explaining ACAB to white family members

[graveyardroses]

if i die, make sure to burn me properly that means skin that means bones use the cigarette lighter you bought at the 99 cent store breathe in, don’t cough, out whispering through your lips smoke curling steadily along the table

sharpness trailing along my neck i didn’t ask for this i didn’t want this i didn’t want this life

the thing is, (i should be afraid, i should be screaming) i trusted you. don’t cry at my funeral when you hold my bones in your hands.

pass it, pass it, take a hit, dangle me from a wooden fence, i’m a piñata from your seventh birthday party, cut me open and i’ll be filled with strawberry candies.

i’m paper mache trying to run on plaster feet i didn’t ask for this i didn’t want this i didn’t want this life

look behind you.