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The H in ADHD stands for homosexual
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Every time I hear Subwoofer Lullaby I am suddenly ten years old again sitting on the floor of the local recreation center’s after-school program, reading an obscure fantasy novel that I never learned the name of because the cover was torn off but that I had read a thousand times because it was the only book on the little shelf that held my interest. I am rationing off a stick of string-cheese and half-listening to the women who supervised us discuss the schedule with one another; next week’s snack will be goldfish.
Some of the older kids are playing Minecraft on the rec center’s Xbox 360. The room is filled with the sound of calming soundtrack and faint chatter as they play. Eventually I will get a turn when it’s almost 5:00 and a girl a few years older than me who i’ve never spoken to will show me how to use the controller. The two of us sit in silence until we are the last two kids left who have not been picked up, at which point we will start to joke around about our respective families always being so late. She compliments how long my hair is and asks to braid it and I can’t help but agree. I don’t usually enjoy people touching me but her hands are gentle. We will sit there and chat on the uncomfortable plastic chairs for another hour as she plays with my hair, our parents incredibly late and the game long forgotten. I am ten years old. I am at peace.
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I found some pre-transition photos of myself on a flash drive while hanging out with some friends and one of them said that I looked like the female equivalent of a middle school boy who’s weirdly into WWII and like
just call me a slur at that point holy shit
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Currently sitting in an Italian restaurant that serves Japanese food, plays American country music over the speakers, and has a French news station on the tv they have in the corner. I feel like Pitbull.
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