i wish and i pray above all else that, if only once in my life, i might wholly separate myself from that aspect of my being which is so profoundly feminine. it is as though this estranged figure has fastened itself upon my soul, forever pressing itself into my thoughts, leaving me no means by which to cast it away. but i may admit, there are moments in which i must slow down to question myself. is it truly the case that, were i the man i've only desired to be, should i desire to forsake the boundless empathy that beats within my heart? it only courses through my veins and settles itself within every nerve, governing each corner of my frail being.
there is something exquisitely delicate about the essence of the flower's body, something absolutely precious beyond measure but is painfully isolating. why is it must i long to be rid of a thing so intricate and so beautiful? the tragedy truly lies within the inevitable hour when every single fragile piece of it begins to shatter. and there exists no remedy for the moment when one so dearly loved begins to erode your very consciousness, until, little by little, you dismantle yourself merely to satisfy the passing fancies of another.
my very soul aches for another existence, for i know that no being other than the one i now inhabit shall ever truly minister to me. my limbs, gut, and conscience grow weary, for i simply cannot order my life according to my own desires. but instead, i am compelled to shape my days around a life that does not belong to me, a life that has never been entwined with my soul and one only tethered to the flesh through the ceaseless current of blood.
you will insist upon treating me as the man i scarcely appear to be, and though the very man I have always wished I possessed the courage to become. had i not been fashioned from birth with these gossamery inclinations, these delicate dispositions, I should never have been made to bear such contradiction. even in my present condition, i ought never to permit you to trample the garden of my heart.
the father and his chariot. do they truly stand in opposition to one another? i would rather none of this held any consequence at all.
at times, I find myself longing to become the flower in its full, vulnerable bloom. It grieves me to know that such a life shall remain forever beyond my reach unless i first free myself from the roof beneath which you have kept me. perhaps, the degenerate america's through which we wander has brought little but misery upon our family upon us both above all. i wish only that you would look upon me as your son, the son i have always craved to inhabit. instead, you prioritize to regard the son before you as though he were your daughter. i am not that daughter, not in the deepest chambers of my soul, nor in the smallest particle of from which i am made. if nothing else, i wish you would grant me the kindness of pretending that i never was. erratically i wish to help more than anything. yet how can such help ever be possible when your baby is never afforded a place in which to speak freely, nor the comfort to reveal the burdens of her heart? and if even she is denied such grace, what hope remains for the son who has lived within this mold all along?
amandla
baratheonpilled
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
izzy806
yousharknotpass
gracieabrams
vaporwave
