the key is to make it! (lucky star cardigan + 70~ hours of work spread out over a year)
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@emrystomplicated
the key is to make it! (lucky star cardigan + 70~ hours of work spread out over a year)
I think I'm going to remember this phrase every time I cook for the next five years
via @swatercolor [insta]
This is the best tag I've ever received on a post, I think
who’s ready to talk about how wicked is one of the few examples of a love triangle that is actually a triangle
my impact
Bitch I am on the GROUND
tag yourself i’m ‘don’t forget to brush your goddamn teeth!! love you, mom’
These are the most popular baby names right now
get fucked Genghis Ron
Time for some reflection. This blog turned one today, which means I did not know what my second name would be a year ago. In a week my name change will be official. I will get a new passport that has the right names and gender marker on it. What an insane, but awesome idea. A year ago I could only hope I would be this far now, now I know where I am and I can retrace my steps back in time. My life is only going to get better from here on. My final exams are not too far away and after those I will be able to make some money and study some great things (namely words and rocks). I am three weeks on T today. At the same time a lot and very little has changed. I feel much better, but also a bit groggy. I have daily flashbacks to (the start of) my first puberty, which is a weird experience to have. I can experience moments of bad dysphoria (yes getting misgendered by strangers once you start T stings more than pre-T) and complete euphoria all in the same day. I am so happy I get to experience this and I am looking forward to the future, though that scared me a bit too. Even though I know my future will be better than without T, there are many things I can’t anticipate and those will remain scary.
A couple of months later, it looks as though my parents will indeed be giving me a second name. Not Tom though, probably Liam or James, both good. This life is a wild ride.
The taste of the word slowly disappears. The sound bounces of the walls. Tom, Tom, Tom. I stare into my own eyes. They look dead. My face is pale, paler than it has been in months, but my cheeks are slowly regaining colour. I let out a sigh. The mirror is at perfect height. My face and shoulders are masculine enough. They look like me. A bit boyish maybe, not like your typical sixteen year old, but still, me. The word hits home. Vaguely, yes, but home none the less. I hope to trick my parents into using it. I hope to trick them into thinking they came up with it. I hope they will start calling me their child, not their daughter. That they will stop referring to me as "a girl", with female pronouns, because let's face it, I have never been a Proper Girl. I am a person, maybe a guy or man, and I am Emrys, I might be Tom.