I wanted to hear you say it was ok.
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*waddles up to you trembling like a chihuahua* i could rlly go for some uppies right now man
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“What does it mean to be a man?”
This is my first time attempting a comic… I don’t think I did a very good job, but I at least wanted to try it out because this is something I’ve wanted to share and talk about…
I’ve been thinking a lot about my past and future recently, especially as it revolves around my identity… and my health.
I never thought I’d make it to 20, especially not in the environment I grew up in. But I did it. I made it.
You can make it, too. Despite the things you hear, despite the way you’re treated. If you’re true to yourself, if you’re honest, if you’re able to come to terms with who you are… it’s because, somewhere, deep down, you want to live. You want to be happy.
So do that.
My transformation and transition was about survival so that I could see a day in which I was happy and comfortable and content, despite what I’ve been told and what has been done to me. I deserve it. I’m worth it.
I’m excited to be able to someday find that in myself and believe it a hundred percent.
I’m excited to live and finally feel alive.
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"you're starting to look like your mother"
"you're starting to look like your mother"
being trans and having a complicated relationship with your mom is wild
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it was his fault not mine
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a little personal response / tribute to "here's the life i've always longed for" by Anna Haifisch. the original means so much to me, and even though it's hard, I feel like every day i'm making more steps toward finally being on the other side of that fence <:)
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It took me too long to realize that not all the world is my enemy
[ID: A comic done mostly in black and white. A hound with a broken chain around its neck flees a cage and runs into two reaching hands. The hound bites one hand, drawing blood. Narration says, "When I fled my cage / I bit the hands that took me in / Because the only hand I'd ever known / was a bad one."
The hands, now with fresh bite marks, still reach out gently to the hound. ""We're not him." they said / and I knew what they meant / but I didn't understand."
Floating in white space: "Now I understand / but the damage is done."
A person enters a door, rolling a suitcase, saying "Hi" to two people on a couch, who look up from their newspapers and phones to say "Hey" and "Hi" back. The shadow of the person who entered the room stretches out before them-- a hound's, not a person's. Narration: "I'm so sorry / I couldn't help it / I couldn't help myself."
We see the hands of the people on the couch. Both have faded bite marks on them. "I was so blind, I forgot / that not all hands are made of iron." End ID]
(ID by @princess-of-purple-prose)
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