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In this selection of "femmeselfcare", I apply makeup and listen to Mark's performance "My First Denim Vest." I am the bearded drag queen that she speaks of in her story. It was an emotional experience for me to be hearing her talk about that night we shared while painting my face in the dark. I miss her voice. I miss being a genderqueer girl gang with her. I miss my friend.

Sometimes it seems like we're all living in some kind of prison. And the crime is how much we hate ourselves. It's good to get really dressed up once in a while. And admit the truth: that when you really look closely? People are so strange and so complicated that they're actually... beautiful. Possibly even me.

Angela Chase, My So-Called Life, 1994, Written by Winnie Holzman & Betsy Thomas

This is the final post I'll leave here. This lesson is what I feel like I learned from Mark. And that I taught her. And that many others taught us. This life is a prison, either society's or your own mind's. And all we wanted to do was be absolutely devastatingly hideously beautiful. So incredibly beautiful that the only act we could perform was recognizing and celebrating the beauty that we found in others. So that beauty we saw in others reflected back into us, and so on and so forth. An elevation of spirit and consciousness that brought queens of all styles to a raised level of existence. I miss her so desperately and I hope and pray that she's met the level of beauty that she was destined to shine at. She was a butterfly that was meant to fly so much higher than I ever could dreamt of. Love you forever, my sweet, sweet beauty kween.

How important it is for us to recognize and celebrate our heroes and she-roes!

Maya Angelou

the moment that you realize you have been unknowingly waging a battle to live and it takes contemplating your own mortality to discover it. the desire to overcome depression to live intentionally.

i feel like everything is resurfaced,. when do we get back to normal? remember how happy i was? how fun? how i just wanted to make everyone laugh? now when i try it just seems so forced. so fraudulent.

in a race between death and innocence.

calloutqueen-blog

I THINK I’M GOING A LITTLE CRAZY AND I LOVE IT

I can make it through the rain I can stand up once again on my own And I know that I'm strong enough to mend And every time I feel afraid I hold tighter to my faith And I live one more day and I make it through the rain

Mariah Carey, Through The Rain

i'm afraid shes not anywhere. i'm afraid shes just gone. like, is it naive to believe someone is in heaven or wherever waiting for you? like what if that was it? the beauty that i knew for only a moment is gone forever and after im gone, i'll never know it again. and i have these moments of feeling her presence at the beach, or with juana, or while putting on makeup, or listening to lady jams on the bus but is that just me consoling myself? i'm creating this false sense of her presence because if i dont, i wont be able to leave my house? so i create her there to make it ok? i've never liked the concept of death. i can't watch horror movies, i distanced myself from my aging grandparents to ease the affect of their deaths on me, anytime a pet dies i lose control for about a week. and i always knew she was going to kill herself. we had conversations about it. almost as much as we talked about makeup. usually it wasn't so heavy hearted, just a casual conversation about wanting it all to end, or how insufferable existence was. but it was always there, looming. i just didn't think it was going to be so soon. or did i trick myself into believing that she was just having a bad day or week and that she would graduate and move away from chicago and start transitioning and get an amazing job or have an amazing show in a prestigious gallery and things would look up and she would forget about killing herself? am i tricking myself about that same thing about my future? about my other friends futures? and really what is the point? to stay alive and keep learning about how shitty the world is and being disappointed over and over again to only then get old, watch yourself deteriorate and fall apart and get sick, to wish that you were young again and could do it all over, to then die and leave your debts behind for everyone else to pick the pieces up and miss you and feel depression and grief? brb potato chips.

omg my stubble is so itchy.

apdt-deactivated20120513

The beauty that was lost will forever will an empty cage in my heart.

a poem for andrew

can i just curl up and like be in a cave till i die?

ugh

cool and away from idiots

i know, can we just get 10-15 people that we like

and would fuck

and like cheetos

and just call it it a life

omg celine dion just came on

everythings ok again

when do we get back to normal? what the fuck is even normal? last night i felt so crazy and people kept being like, no youre not crazy, but i have to be reflective about how much mental health plays a role in my grieving process. also is mark just trying to make me feel just a small percentage of how she felt everyday? the pain of losing christine, of being constantly attacked for just existing, of battling mental health issues. the week she died, someone said, well now we just have to wait till another one of our friends kill themselves. and as fucked as that is, like, thats really a definite possibility. living post-mark has been a battle with fear and depression.

When you love someone so deeply They become your life It's easy to succumb to overwhelming fears inside Blindly I imagined I could Keep you under glass Now I understand to hold you I must open up my hands And watch you rise Spread your wings and prepare to fly For you have become a butterfly Fly abandonedly into the sun If you should return to me We truly were meant to be So spread your wings and fly Butterfly I have learned that beauty Has to flourish in the light Wild horses run unbridled Or their spirit dies You have given me the courage To be all that I can And truly feel your heart will Lead you back to me when you're Ready to land Spread your wings and prepare to fly For you have become a butterfly Fly abandonedly into the sun If you should return to me We truly were meant to be So spread your wings and fly Butterfly I can't pretend these tears Aren't over flowing steadily I can't prevent this hurt from Almost overtaking me But I will stand and say goodbye For you'll never be mine Until you know the way it feels to fly Spread your wings and prepare to fly For you have become a butterfly Fly abandonedly into the sun If you should return to me We truly were meant to be So spread your wings and fly Butterfly Spread your wings and prepare to fly For you have become a butterfly Fly abandonedly into the sun If you should return to me We truly were ment to be So spread your wings and fly Butterfly So flutter through the sky Butterfly Spread your wings and fly Butterfly

Mariah Carey, Butterfly

Your picture is still on my wall, on my wall The colors are bright, bright as ever Red is strong and blue is pure Some things last a long time Some things last a long time Your picture is still on my wall, on my wall I think about you often, often I won't forget all the things we did Some things last a long time Some things last a long time It's funny, but it's true And it's true, but it's not funny Time comes and goes All of the while, I still think about you Some things last a long time Your picture is still on my wall, on my wall The colors are bright, bright as ever the things we did i can´t forget Some things last a lifetime Some things last a lifetime Some things last a lifetime

Daniel Johnston, Some Things Last A Long Time

"let death be your friend" was a text i got this weekend from a friend. this friend is someone i really respect and have talked to about grieving mark, as he has many friends that he's lost to suicide and has dealt with death and the grieving process a lot more than i. it stopped me in my tracks. i was at work and i couldn't even begin to process the concept of embracing this horrible fucked up event that has had the largest wake of tragedy and depression on my life. and then for some reason my boss put on the soundtrack to "Hair" and "Where Do I Go" started to play and its this really intense song about questions with no answers like, "Why do I live? Why do I die?"

And I don't have any answers.

After the night was through I was feeling in a really bad head space. I had just watched my queer siblings perform their pain and I was cleaning everything up and I couldn't handle it. I started crying my eyes out and getting really hysterical. I had to hug Victor, who was trying to console me and I couldn't get out of my clothes quickly enough. So I'm crying and cleaning up and thank god everyone had left at this point because the people who were left seemed uncomfortable about it, not in a mean way, just like, this is real and making me uncomfortable. We got some food at Joy Yee's and that was good but I just kept crying, like on the way there on the bus and I had to run to the bathroom to cry/compose myself. And part of me feels so guilty for that. I was so heavy. And tired. Grief is really exhausting. But most of me feels so angry. That the show was even necessary. That all of this is.

Thats what snacks are for, though.

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