soft_whisper95

They/them, biracial, queer, poetry, writing, memes, and moody shit. They a depressed bitch who just needs to get their feels out.

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June is always difficult but damn this year hit so hard. 10 years without you feels like an eternity. I still can’t believe you’re gone sometimes. I miss you so much. I finally had strength when I spoke to your little sister on the phone. It was a breath of fresh air. That is until I realized by next year she will have out lived you. Ouch. Fuck me, right? I wonder how your son is doing. I wonder what could have been. I hate that we’ll never know. I have so much I wish I could tell you. Like for starters that I’m getting married. Crazy, right? I hope you would be proud of me for how far I’ve come. Keeping my promise.

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What I’ve seen on the road so far.

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i’m actually tired, like from the bottom of my heart, i am tired.

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fuck that hits hard guys like damn

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have you ever watched someone cut people out just enough times that you over apologize just to make sure it doesn’t happen to you? 😞

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what a beautiful day to remember that trans people of color exist and deserve better

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trans people of color exist and deserve better!!!!

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Hey it’s Black History Month!

TRANS PEOPLE OF COLOR EXIST AND DESERVE BETTER!!!!!!!!!!!!

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in honor of black history month 2025, i’ve put together a list of books written by black sapphic authors for you to read in the month of february

non-fiction essays/memoirs:

all about love: new visions by bell hooks

black lesbian in white america by anita cornwell

sister outsider: essays and speeches by audre lorde

mouths of rain: an anthology of black lesbian thought by briona simone jones

blues legacies and black feminism by angela davis

does your mama know?: an anthology of black lesbian coming out stories by lisa c. moore

fiction:

the color purple by alice walker

loving her by ann allen shockley

the gilda stories by jewelle gomez

in another place, not here by dionne brand

pomegranate by helen elaine lee

the summer we got free by mia mckenzie

these letters end in tears by musih tedji xaviere

dead in long beach, california by venita blackburn

young adult:

honey girl by morgan rogers

escaping mr. rochester by l.l. mckinney

this ravenous fate by hayley dennings

faebound by saraa el-arifa

so let them burn by kamilah cole

where sleeping girls lie by faridah àbíké-íyímídé

adult:

the deep by rivers solomon

sweet vengeance by viano oniomoh

come back (love concealed) by terri ronald

house of hunger by alexis henderson

short stories:

girl, woman, other by bernadine evaristo

the secret lives of church ladies by deesha philyaw

additional info:

-> “why wasn’t this book listed?” probably because it wasn’t black sapphic-centric, the author isn’t a black sapphic themself, or i just simply haven’t heard of it! so feel free to add on if it meets those two criteria

many of these books require trigger warnings, especially some of the older ones that are more likely to feature racial struggles of the time. please do your due diligence and search for tws if you want to read them!

please feel free to add onto this list in the rbs or comments! happy black history month

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February 2, 2025. Rivera Italian Restaurant and then walking bridge. Escoots my idea. Spontaneous adventure for life.

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I had fun in CO

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So proud of my baby.

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Wow. Just wow. So a cis-het white man was dehydrated and he got light headed and his chest tightened so his stepdad took him to the hospital. He was treated so well, which I’m glad don’t get me wrong, but holy fuck the privilege. They X-ray his chest, do multiple blood draws, have him pee in a cup and nurses are all nice and good to him (one even offering to hold his hand) only to be told he had a panic attack, he was dehydrated and it just so happened he had a very minor UTI. An AFAB individual would have been treated differently. And that fucking sucks ass. They do everything possible for the white cis-het man, but if you’re anything else you’re fucked. And of course I can’t say that to the cis-het white man. Because that invalidates his experience, and I in full honesty don’t want to do that even though everyone would have if it was me, if I was the one in the hospital. I just want him to know how good he’s got it… Okay. That’s it.

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Crying because Stolas, while problematic, is so beautiful. He makes me feel seen and understood. Not just the writing, but him as a character. I feel like if I had a bad day and he was my friend he’d invite me over for a HellaNovella and cereal. He’d laugh and cry with me, and hold me until I fell asleep.

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One Direction was a huge deal for me in my childhood. I’ve always loved the idea that there are different artists and bands that are there for you at different stages of life, and 1D was one of those for me. From a young age I wrote fanfiction, pretended to go to concerts since I couldn’t afford it, and even wanted to be a groupie before I knew what the word meant. Liam was one of them. They may have struggled and may have had times when they hated each other, but when it came to it they were in it together. I will always be grateful for the moments in the darkness as a young teen that I could see the light. Sending love and sympathy to his family, his son, and all who really knew him and loved him.

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I’m at a loss for words. Dame Maggie Smith was a titan in the film industry. Her legacy will live on in her family, friends, loved ones, and her truly iconic filmography. Rest in peace.

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I’ve mentioned before that some days are harder than others. Today is a hard day. I’m trying to get things done, but I just switched from pajamas to a onesie. I haven’t turned on the lights. I haven’t fixed my hair. I’ve had a headache for three days. I’m just so exhausted. I don’t know how people do it. 

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twenty-eight

First, it was seventeen. Then it was twenty-one. Then twenty-five. Then twenty-seven. I will be twenty-eight tomorrow and I am terrified. For the past nine years, I have in some way or another dreaded my birthday. One year older when he’s not, or not understanding why I have a chance; there are plenty more. And now I am at the last number I planned for. What does one do when they hit the last number? I want to believe that I can keep doing this. Getting a year older. I have found a happiness that I can’t explain to anyone. Not without sounding pathetic and sad. EVEN THOUGH IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY. I have learned so much about myself these past few years. I met and fell in love with the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, I found words for the one thing I could never have (acceptance in my queerness), and I have friends who love me. Why then do I feel so stuck? Why do I wish I didn’t have to? Sure you could explain it away with depression, but that doesn’t feel like enough. I don’t feel deserving of these feelings. I want to yeet glass to break it. I want to throw an axe into a wall. I want to feel like I have a good reason to feel this dread. God this makes me feel and sound so fucking dramatic. Like an angsty teenager. It’s quite frankly exhausting. I know in my mind that I am loved, listened to, and that people try to understand. Why is it that I get like this? I want to celebrate the fact that I get another year. Another year to kiss my love. Another year to hug my friends. Another year to cry with my brothers and sisters and siblings. Another year to see a sunrise or a sunset if I want to. To eat my favorite foods. To try new foods. To go to places old and new. And more. But I am scared out of my goddamn mind. I know I have it good. But I don’t feel like I deserve it even though my therapist says I do. I would never tell anyone in my situation that they aren’t deserving. I AM HUMAN TOO. But for christ’s sake I just feel like I am swimming in dread and sadness when I should be excited about what the future has in store for me. I have so much. But some days I feel like I could just leave it all behind. And that is what scares me the most. I don’t want to leave it all behind. I want the things and people I have and love. Maybe it is just a group of feelings that (even though I should see it coming since you know, it happens every goddamn year) blindside me into believing the worst in and for myself. I should know logically that this will pass but it feels never-ending. It feels lonely. BUT I am not alone. And I am grateful for that.