lapinlobotomy

[lapinlobotomy]

would it be alright? would it be okay?

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song tribute to Black Dresses

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happy new year to all! on the very first day of 2025, i am already a changed person. i discovered you can transcribe chords and notes from using FL Studio's Wave Candy plugin with its spectrogram and im going fucking crazy (positive)

so if you have FL Studio, wanna cover a song, and have a lot of time to kill just placing notes in your piano roll, check it out!

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your art is so cool keep drawing forever 🖤

thank u kind stranger <3 dont worry they couldnt make me stop even if they tried. ill be on my deathbed drawing girls kissing

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and I know you feel so all alone but I'm waiting for you

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hollyhock

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turning down the path into the deep darkness

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dizzy girl 💫

original under the cut

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pinky and pepper forever heads check this shit out

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its like TV is life TV?

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pepper outfit

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🩷

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My Lesbian Epiphany

below the cut is a personal narrative about my experience realizing i'm a nonbinary lesbian, written for my college English credit course. from my instructor's positive feedback, i thought i would share it with the world somehow.

An average day of second grade was passing by quickly. I came home from school, zipped through my homework, and planted myself in front of the television. Remote in hand, I cycled through my channels of choice. Nothing new on Nickelodeon, nor anything interesting on Cartoon Network. In a last-ditch effort, I switched to the Disney Channel.

That’s when I saw her. Nested in a typical episode of Wizards of Waverly Place, a teen girl with beautiful, shoulder-length hair blazed with a blonde streak in her side-swept fringe tendrils. Her outfit, her accessories, her “cool rebel girl” attitude! I couldn’t help but lean in closer, entranced. With this character, named Stevie, I could not question it: I was attracted to other girls.

There were various other signs to come, for example, in middle school. On a day I was sporting a tank top that didn’t quite fit me, I walked the regular route to my next class with a classmate. She took notice of what I was wearing, with my bra exposed, and decided to comment.

“Luring in the boys, huh,  ◼◼◼◼◼?”

I neglected a response, mainly out of sheer confusion and discomfort in this attention drawn to my body. The conversation faded awkwardly by the time I arrived at my awaiting classroom. Before entering, I peered around the hall of students, routinely seeking any sign of the cute girl that dominated my school day thoughts.

Inevitably, high school rolled around. Ninth grade began how my eighth grade ended, mute, panicked, and constantly overwhelmed. However, something was on the horizon. That fall, I was introduced to an artist online who became enamored with me shortly after becoming friends. A month later, we were officially dating. He was a transgender man named Noel; his name chosen himself based on a character of a game we bonded over. Noel spoke with kindness and gentleness between his staple jokes. He confided in me his own journey of healing from his traumatic childhood experiences and even told me, “You can heal, too. I’ll be by your side for this process.”

 Is this…how it feels to be cared about? To actually feel loved by another person?  

A warm sensation fluttered in my chest. A feeling of safety amidst the boiling storm that was my first day at my new Youth Therapy Day Program. In awe of this tender young man, I felt a spark. A lit match to pass the flame to my Rube-Goldberg machine of candles. I don’t have to be what’s been pushed on me. I don’t have to be that girl, nor a girl at all!

I trekked through my first three years of high school under my new identity as a transmasculine nonbinary bisexual. It was a backpack of textbooks taken off my aching shoulders. However, by junior year, something started to worm back into my mind and fester. Suddenly, walking through the halls of my high school became a warzone for my soft, girl-adoring self. The sway of bobbed hair on one girl, fluttering eyelashes bordering crystalline eyes of another. Every girl I would see was gorgeous, my poor heart was skipping beats every day for a week.

Skeptical, I posed myself a question. Well, what about that boy over there, with the short hair? My mindscape would pause, before lighting up and melting over the idea of a girl with that exact haircut. Blushing at the thought of this made-up person, I was in dire need of what I call, a lesbian epiphany. Between assignments, I couldn’t help but think, what’s wrong with me? Girls are so pretty, I can’t stop staring but…I can’t be a lesbian, I get angry when people call me my birthname. Being called “she” makes my skin crawl.

Do… any lesbians feel like this, too?

I labored over these thoughts until I dashed straight to Tumblr, seeking validation for my identity and pure curiosity. Clicking past the artwork of the sapphic couples I longed to be, I typed “nonbinary lesbian” into the search bar and pressed the return key. Sure enough, there were numerous lesbians sharing experiences, just like mine. Lesbians using “he,” “they,” and even new, custom pronouns. Lesbians with chosen names. Lesbians who experience gender dysphoria and even transition.

“Oh… Oh my god.”

Something deep within me clicked. It’s possible. It’s allowed.

“Oh god, this is it! I’m a lesbian!” I could only whisper it, but had I been home alone and uninhibited, I would’ve screamed it out. I would’ve yelled it as loud as my vocal cords would permit me. Truly, that’s the essence of a lesbian epiphany.

It’s been three years now since I realized I was a lesbian. Despite new struggles, I never knew how comforting that single label could be. I would’ve never accepted this part of me, had I stayed within the scope of what representation lesbians got in common media. Even Stevie, my awakening, was written to be in a relationship with her media’s female protagonist, yet only allowed in subtext and disclosed after the fact.

Even Noel, the assured, clement transgender man, had his epiphany, just like me. In fact, he experienced the same fascinations and realization that I did, within a year of each other. I know two other gender diverse lesbians who reached the same destination, now flourishing with their queer partners in the paradise of lesbianism. That’s a joke, of course. Truly, there’s no one true way to be a lesbian. Every person under this label is different, and there’s no reason to change that. The disclosure of raw, personal stories is the key to my own journey, my lesbian epiphany.

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i can be a person if you give me the chance 🌈

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pumpkin patch 🎃

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mushroom girly from august i forgot to post