Might as well make a proper pinned master post or whatever.
I'm Bonk, an intersex, transgender, autistic and disabled "man", you will only use he/him pronouns when speaking about us. We don't trust anyone to use any other ones. There's something deeply wrong with us.
We go between "I" and "we". That depends on how distressed we are. There is no further explanation for this. Assume the use of "we/us" only refers to "bonk" unless stated otherwise.
We are also not human, this is not tied to gender for us.
If you ever impose "human" or "humanity" onto us, see yourself out. We are a human shaped entity at best. Not being human isn't some fun silly thing for us specifically, it is extrapolation of the treatment humans have put us through, this discomfort is preferred to being played up as something of higher abilities.
This blog is not anything useful, or educational. you shouldn't follow us, if you choose to do so anyway, at least be above 18.
We've given up on the delusion that we're "helpful" or "capable" of proper analysis there will be nothing of use, our "opinions" don't count.
Consider this a vent blog, or means to digitally tear ourselves apart.
Tags we use are:
"Bonkillion ramblings" / "bonkillion additions" / "bonkillion reblogs" / "bonkillion tags" - all self explanatory. We don't always properly include trigger warnings in our reblogs. That isn't intentional but be aware of this moving forward.
"Retard diaries" will be a tag where all the personal attempts at mental self-destruction go. Posts with this tag won't include any other tag, if you want to follow us, and don't wish to see said posts, block the tag. You are not obligated to hear these miserable wails.
We routinely call ourselves a retard whilst on this blog. We tend to avoid using it while reblogging from others. If you have a problem with that, move on with your day. Your discomfort with something using the term "retard" on itself, is not our problem.
If you have a problem with us existing as is. Too bad. You will have to live with the knowledge this miserable piece of shit will one day kill itself. It is unclear when that'll be. One more day without testosterone, one more creak of the old chair keeping us from hanging.
One day the rotting old wood soaking up silent tears will break. Good riddance.
















