They looked like God that had chosen to walk among them. An air of elegance and disinterest, as if nothing could touch them. Leaving burn marks underneath their finger tips. We would whisper prayers everytime we saw them, still unsure whether we were blessed or cursed.
Dear cis people: I wanna see y'all talk about how great life and peace are when your life expectancy is 36 years.
I wanna see you “calm down” about systematic oppression when teenhood IS your mid-life.
You wanna know why you don’t see many old trans people?
Because you killed them, as a society, and you’re still killing us. You’ve never stopped. Us trans people don’t mean shit to this society, so excuse us if we tend to have a bone to pick with the social order.
I got a lot of dreams. I wanna go into psych, I wanna be a rabbi, and I wanna go into politics maybe. I wanna adopt a kid, live a parter or partners, have a home and be fulfilled. Maybe write a book, do some art, be a lifelong advocate. The most unrealistic goal of mine, however, is that I’ll even live that long.
You don’t get to tell me to calm down when your life expectancy is three to four times longer than mine.
[I used to take the train every day. Everywhere. It was my only connection to the outside world. To a normal world. Now, as I walk through the abandoned metro station I realize that nothing is normal anymore]
[Not my photo. Credit to owner]
Voi fumare una cicca? Non puoi, fa male.
Vuoi farti una canna? Non puoi, è illegale.
Vuoi scopare come non ci fosse un domani? Non puoi, è immorale.
Vuoi strafogarti di nutella, pizza ed ogni genere di cibo fritto? Non puoi, ingrassano.
Vuoi riempirti di tatuaggi e piercing? Non puoi, è da criminali.
Vuoi farti i capelli rossi, verdi, blu o viola? Non puoi, è da pazzi.
Vuoi amare una persona del tuo stesso sesso? Non puoi, è contro natura.
ALLORA SCUSATEMI, MI RINCHIUDO IN CAMERA AL BUIO AD ASPETTARE DI MORIRE IL PRIMA POSSIBILE.