because this wasn't on tumblr yet and everyone needs to hear it

Two of my friends lost their virginity while we were in high school, and a group of people I was acquainted with kept asking me when I was going to lose mine
I wasn’t sure how to explain to them that I was more fixated on finding the necklace I had lost than losing something else of mine
I couldn’t understand why touching and being touched was so important to so many people I knew, and yet to me, it could not be less important
I didn’t know how to explain to them that sex was the last thing on my mind
And I didn’t know how to explain that to myself either
Because everyone loves sex, everyone wants sex
Not wanting sex makes me

“unable to be seen; not visible to the eye.”

I need to be fixed, that’s what they tell me
I’ll change my mind with age, that’s what they tell me
I just need to meet the right person, that’s what they tell me
Their voices are so loud that I can’t help but to believe that, even though deep down I know they’re wrong
It takes some time, but I’m finally able to discover a different response to the one I’ve been receiving
The internet is helpful, it introduces me to a world of terminology that I was not previously aware of
It shows me the entrance to a community of people who are all going through and experiencing the same thoughts and feelings as I am
But despite that, even with my newfound knowledge, I still feel

“withdrawn from or out of sight; hidden”

There are still so many people trying to tell me that the way I feel isn’t valid
That I’m not real
And even the people who acknowledge that I exist still trying to keep me down by reminding me that my orientation does not face enough grief in order to be valid
Yet when I try to explain who I am, each vocabulary lesson just goes over their heads
And when I try to remind everyone that there isn’t a criteria to be met in order to be queer, they can’t hear me over telling me that life is a pissing contest of who has it worst
So after a while, I stop trying to justify myself and my orientation to everyone else
And instead, I work on validating myself, on accepting myself, on loving myself for who I am
And for what my sexuality is
It’s hard to say the words out loud but after a while, it gets easier to say
My sexuality is

“not perceptible or discernible by the mind”

They say negative voices always speak the loudest and maybe that’s why all I can hear are the sounds of rejection and disapproval
Maybe that’s why I have to spend such a long time making excuses for myself, and forcing myself into relationships and situations that I don’t want
Maybe that’s why it feels like I can never truly be myself
Until one day I can
Until I can finally hear the voices of acceptance
Voices that tell me that it’s okay to be the way I am
Voices that tell me there is nothing wrong with me, that I don’t need to be fixed
Voices that don’t require a vocabulary lesson when I come out to them
Voices that say, “I see you. I see you for who you are. I really do.”
It’s hard to believe and hard to understand at first, but soon enough, I learn to believe them
I learn that I am

able to be seen.


invisibility is not a sexuality (but asexuality is)
(cc, 2016)

you guys can check out this poem and so many more in my LGBT+ poetry anthology, coming soon!

Round the World (and home again)

25 Days Christmas Romance Challenge || Day 20

Character A returns to their birth-town for the holidays. Character B is their estranged childhood best friend.

(header by the incredibly sweet and talented @katie-dub)
This is kinda short and kinda different and kinda weird but I hope you like it.

Round the World (and home again); ~ 1, 400 words; FF.NET || AO3

It’s December and Emma has never seen the sky that angry at the world. But, to be honest, she doesn’t spend that much time gazing at the sky. She is too busy throwing clothes in a duffel bag.

She is, clearly, without a doubt, certifiably, insane.

Another pair of jeans for sure.

She is absolutely out of her mind.

And her sneakers.

She is not considering the consequences and all the possible ways this could blow in her face.

And an extra pair of socks never hurts, right?

She has been aching all day at the memory of his face when she said she won’t be there to send him off and now-

Maybe two extra pairs?

She is not considering or thinking or rationalizing or analyzing. She is going with her gut. Heart. Whatever.

Fuck it.

She zips up her duffel, takes the stairs two at a time and consequently almost falls on her face. She wrenches the Bug’s door open, throws her bag in the back and breaks every traffic law on her way to the docks.

She misses him.


“Did you go home?”


“Did you go to Ireland first?”

“Ah, no. No, I thought… a journey doesn’t start at home, it ends there, right?”

“… Right. I mean, I don’t… I guess.”


“So where did you start?”


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