Texts I have sent my friends about people I saw on public transport:
“A fellow passenger thought there was a stray cat stuck somewhere in the bus because we all heard this meowing and made the bus driver stop to look for it until a young woman in front of me rolled her eyes and said: “She’s fine.” And her purse was a cat carrier in disguise!”
“Just now I saw a girl in a wheelchair carry off her boyfriend in her lap and he had his arms wrapped around her neck and he was swooning so hard and she was grinning so wide and now I have feelings.”
“I was on the bus and there was this tall young man with an I-almost-need-to-shave beard and I-almost-need-a-haircut hair and on his lap he had literally the mini version of himself except blonde and he looked so tired but so happy and his baby boy was so excited to be riding the bus. I needed this today.”
“There is a gorgeous girl at the bus stop with warm brown skin and a fluffy afro and a rose coloured blouse and a soft pink lace skirt and I am both deeply offended and blessed by this sight.”
“The train was so full there wasn’t any room to sit and a group of Portuguese backpackers (??) just sort of sat down on the floor in a pile of tiredness and friendship because they just didn’t care anymore.”
“A very pretty boy just came strolling out of the park with perfect ebony hair, pale skin, red lips, a spotless but unbuttoned white dress shirt, wrinkled but matching suit trousers and jacket, and dirty sneakers?? Jumped a fence, looked around, got on the bus. Like…what???”
when i was a little kid, i had an imaginary friend named cindy. now, cindy was great but she always had a new appearance when i saw her. somedays she was pale and with light hair, others she was dark skinned and with a fluffy afro. the one constant was her eyes. they were all white. everything. they never creeped me out because she was my best friend.
now i never really questioned my best friend, but my family is a bunch of superstitious mexican catholics. my godmother, who we will just call tía m, practices brujería (witchcraft). the problem with this is that she worships death. cindy hated my tía m. i could never go to my tía’s without cindy begging to go home or she said she would be a bad girl if we didn’t.
one day, my tía n invited us to her large house with a pool. my tía m can’t swim and has a fear of water so she simply had her feet dangling in the water. i swam up to her about to ask her why she didn’t come in since i was just a 5 year old kid that didn’t understand her reasons.
next thing i know, my mom is dragging a shaking tía m out of the pool. i lost all my memory as to what happened, but according to my family, i grabbed my tía m’s foot and dragged her into the pool with sudden strength. my tía m kept screaming at me, but she kept screaming “leave! you don’t belong here, demonio! ¡eres uno con el diablo!” (the last part is you are one with the devil). my tía m’s fear of water has increased after that incident.
i have a lot of stories about cindy and what she did, but that one always gets me on edge. though the strangest thing now is when she visits me in my dreams, she knows i’m trans and calls me damian.
nobody in my family knows i’m trans so i have no clue where she found out. or why she won’t leave me alone even though i’m 15 now and have moved houses 5 times or so. how does she always find me?
FYN James: 8/10: Wow yeah, that is quite the imaginary “friend.” Thanks for sharing the scares!
Today I ran into the cutest dog. He was sitting on a bench in Madison Square Park, with a small shaved body with a large fluffy afro head. As I walked past my meet the dog’s eyes I knew I needed a photo.
I paused thinking to pull out my phone and take a guilty photograph but felt like I should ask the owner. I asked, and the owner said he “I can’t make it a block without people asking to take a photo. Go ahead”
I sat for a minute taking my one photo as the owner, a rather slim older well kept gay man told me of the breed. “You see he’s Cuban, he a pure breed but they have three different hair types” he continued to tell me of silky hair versus the other hair of the breeds of the dog. I took in the knowledge watching the afro bounce as the dog briefly hoped off the bench to greet me and returned to his perch.
As I was getting ready to leave he said “I love your tattoo is it Japanese” I nodded a no, and greeted my reaction with a small sigh “I meet a "lesbian” girl last summer in the park, with a lovely apple blossom tattoo running down her arm.“
He paused from talking to illustrate the tattoo by run his finger from the top of his arm down to his hand. I stood watched thinking to myself "I pretty sure he meant cherry” but I didn’t say a word as he returned to his story “She got it in Tokyo, it was utterly fantastic. But after getting the tattoo, she went back later and added different breeds of finches on the branch” As he said this he pointed to different places on his arm as if to say one two three or more imaginary birds that he recalled from his memory of the arm.
“I loved it so much,” He said with a tone of excitement “I just wanted to chop off her arm and take it home and keep it behind glass” He laughed once more “Oh that is just so John Waters!” I paused and lightly laughed in return motioning to leave, but my ears prevented me from taking a single step forward. “You’d need the the mustache to be like John Waters”
He raised his eyebrow slightly “Oh I don’t need a mustache to be like John Water” Smiling back at me with a grin “Besides I’m more Divine darling.”
I walked away smiling back as he waved him and his afro dog.