enbyramblings

[enbyramblings]

   — Susan Sontag, Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1964

[text ID: I must change my life so that I can live it, not wait for it.]

[enbyramblings]

“you’re so pretty,” okay write poetry about me then.

[enbyramblings]

A collection.

@aestheteinreverie + me + @natasharxmanov

[enbyramblings]

Give up on taking pretty notes during class.

It's not going to work, never will, never did.

Get a notebook and write down whatever is being said. Use a ballpoint, it dries quick and can handle chaotic writing.

Get post-it's on the side because lord knows professors always come back on things they said before. Simply slap on a post-it.

I prefer to write down the # of the PowerPoint slide we are on, because the PowerPoints are being published anyway, no need to copy that.

If we are doing any coursework during class, I write it in the same notebook as my class notes. It's messy, but at least everything I've learned in a class is all in one place, and I can easily copy it at home if I feel the need to.

Also a fun reminder that notes do not have to be formal, like at all.

"Hitler was the dictator of Germany" can also be written as "Hitler was a little shit that thought he owned Germany or whatever, loser".

If that helps you remember it better, do it.

[enbyramblings]

I got a book spoiled in the dumbest way possible.

.

So I just finished If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio. Phenomenal book. But I got the ending spoiled for me within the first 100 pages.

.

I was reading a paperback copy, and you know how sometimes when you read a paperback book and you set it down the cover comes up a little? So I set my book down face-down and the back cover comes up a little bit and I glanced underneath it where there were some questions to be used in a reading group. AND ONE OF THE QUESTIONS HAD THE ANSWER TO THE MYSTERY IN IT!!!

.

I was furious and devastated. I still loved the book but I can't help but wonder how much better my reaction to the reveal would have been if I didn't know...

#reading #author #if we were villains #iwwv #m l rio #dark academia #poetry #writing #lgbtqia #poet #bookblr #book blog #book lover #booklover #booklr #bookworm #books & libraries #bookaddict

[enbyramblings]

And so I ran...

I ran and I was free from this thing that pounds painfully in my chest, protesting every footfall as I made my way to God knows where. Wings grew from my back as I raced across the pavement, begging my body to keep up with freedom.

.

Escape. 

.

Rising higher and higher until my feet brush nothing but air. Dear God, I’ve never prayed before but please don’t let my wings melt under the beating sun. I just needed an out, and whether my getaway is at the hands of a gentle breeze or unforgiving concrete is up to you.

#poem #poetic #poetry #poet #poets on tumblr #writer #writings #writing #writers on tumblr #enby #nonbinary #Ramblings #Author #lgbt #LGBTQIA #dark academia #light academia #academia aesthetic #academia #short

[enbyramblings]

Bitches be like "it's a quick and easy read!" And then hand you The Priory of the Orange Tree

#reading #books & libraries #bookworm #booklover #booklr #bookblr #author #poetry #writer #writers on tumblr #priory of the orange tree #potot #long reads #literary #literature

[enbyramblings]

A question for my larger chested and/or heat sensitive trans and enby folks!

.

I unfortunately have G sized balls of fat attached to my chest at all times. I have a binder that miraculously fits but the summer heat has made it impossible to wear. I am very sensitive to heat so I'm forced to wear very few layers so wearing a sweatshirt to hide in isn't possible for me at the moment.

.

Any advice or pro-tips for this trans baby? This is my first summer presenting masculine and not being able to is really messing with my head. Thanks and happy pride!!

#lgbt #lgbtqia #enby #nonbinary #trans man #trans #binder #lgbt pride #pride month #lgbtq #lgbtq community

[enbyramblings]

Learning to Romanticize My Life

The dull flicker of the monitor casts a blue light across my face as I type. The click-clack of the keyboard the only sound beyond my Spotify playlists randomizing 70s music with hard rock and indie pop. My head bobs slightly between the screen and the keyboard as I write, pouring the thoughts in my head on the page. The noise outside my room silent besides the occasional siren or the train rumbling past.

I lean back in my chair and arch my back slightly, I glance to my right at my cat laying on my bed, perched and watching me type away. At any moment he may choose to leap up and attack my hands dutifully typing on the keyboard, but for now he lays dormant. 

My walls are covered in sticky notes and the art of small artists, mostly fan art of some of my favorite characters. The sticky notes that litter my walls contain all manners of book recommendations and reminders, but mostly quotes. The quotes that adorn these forlorn sticky notes seem almost too grand for the surface they have been written upon. Vast statements on life, mental health, and feeling alive are confined to a small pink square, mocking the idea that something so grand may be put so simply. 

My clothes in my closet serve as a reminder of my changing identity. Graphic tees that haven’t adorned my body since high school lie buried beneath much plainer shirts. My items of more use is a collection of sweaters and tank tops that I wear time and time again, as if I cannot decide whether I love sleeves or hate them. Nevertheless, going all in or all out it better to me than half-assing it with a t-shirt. The only pair of jeans I wear, a black pair worn to gray by years of washing lie strewn on my bed with a microphone and a pile of cords. 

All of these items I will habitually move to my desk chair once I am finished with work for the night, although I know as I write this that that may not be for several more hours. Since, I am aware that I type a draft of my life rather than do the schoolwork I know will begin to pile up, but I can’t help the relief I feel when I put my words on the page, as if emptying the reserve of my brain after a long day of thoughts bouncing around it.

My fairy lights illuminate the rest of the room with a white light, rather than the harsh overhead the soft light provides a signal that the dark of night is upon us. Yet, I find comfort in the night, something about staying awake at the end of a long day until it feels like you’re the only person on earth provides a feeling unlike any other. One of the big things I miss about moving away from the farm is the stars. All my life I could look up at night to trillions of stars blinking back at me, as if someone had pokes holes in the blanket of night just for the hell of it. Now when I look at the sky during the evening, I am met with the dull orange glow of the city on a smog filled sky, like a never-ending sunset. 

I realize, as I write this, that writing my surroundings is like writing fiction, but where we would idolize a scene like this in fiction it is seen as normal in life. This, perhaps, is what people mean when they say they want to be the main character. I have read enough books to know that not all main characters are grand, some are even hated and yet we love the books. The stories, the relationships, the drama, the heartbreak. Everything is so much more fascinating when put on paper. 

Perhaps that is the best way to go about writing a diary, as to create a book rather than just an account of your day. Instead of “Today is was cold and I went for a walk,” try “the day was brisk as I made my way down the street, the whistling of the trees providing a background track to the music playing through my headphones.” One of these entries sounds far grander and more romanticized than the other, right? Despite the fact that these entries both “technically” mean the same thing, perspective allows us to romanticize our lives and thus live happier ones. 

We all seek to be grand but we are rarely allowed to believe that we actually are.

 I type this at midnight so perhaps my illusions of grandeur are the product of sleep deprivation, yet if my optimism and it’s message come at the cost of my nonexistent sleep schedule than so be it. Rather change one life than none at all, even if that one life is my own. 

I slow my typing as I come to the end of my statement, reading back through it and sorting it so it may make more sense. Rarely do I make edits to my writings, so I simply add the tags and hit post. 

May this find the person who needs it most, even if that person is just me.

#enby #ramblings #writing #poetry #author #writer #writers on tumblr #lgbt #lgbtq #LGBTQIA #main character #romanticize #life #perspective #mental health #story #tldr Be a book #nonbinary

[enbyramblings]

Parts of the Whole

One cannot love

Unless he loves thyself

Though thyself be crooked

Battered

Beaten

Broken beyond recognition

.

One must first stitch the pieces

Back together

To find something to love

But bits have fallen

Between the floorboards

He will never be truly complete

No matter how much time and effort

Is put in

Reaching between the cracks

Will leave him with nothing

But splinters and dust

.

So love thyself without wholeness

Which leads to being able to only love

The parts he wants to see

In those around him

For one cannot love a whole

When he can only love the pieces

Of himself

#self love #selflove #selfcare #self care #love #relationships #breakup #heartbreak #poet #poetry #writer #writers on tumblr #author #enby #nonbinary #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #ramblings

[enbyramblings]

FwB Material

This shirt is made of FwB material

Made to be ripped off my body and strewn on the floor

Made for short term use, never long

Everyday the people in my life that I have loved

that I have seen a future with

have dressed me in this shirt and sent me on my way

Bedraggled but happy

because I think it’s love

Because looking at me with those eyes

and yearning for my touch

was my understanding of love

But it seems that everyone

knows what my shirt is made of

but me

.

When I figured it out

I opened my wardrobe

and searched in vain for something

anything

that would hide my body from those that want to use it

Not love it

They call it love but will cast me aside when I say “no”

when I ask for more

a date

a dinner

a movie

Anything without the promise of ending up in a bed at the end of the it all

but such a shirt does not exist for me

Even if it did 

I’d be dressed up like a doll

by the next man I love

in a shirt made of FwB material

#Friends with benefits #heartbreak #relationship #breakup #love #fwb #enby #nonbinary #writer #writers on tumblr #author #poet #poetry #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia

[enbyramblings]

A Pessimistic Definition of Love

Every person’s definition of love is different, unless they pulled it out of a self-help book or dating guru (in which the manufactured lie of love as a universal truth rains supreme.). Part of this everchanging definition is something I hate about love. Because when someone tells you they love you, your instinct is to assume that that person sees love the same way you do. This is often not the case. Often we assume that our definition of love is the universal one and when this is proven false we blame the person or people that claimed to love us in the first place.

Here’s how I view love, and I’m afraid it’s quite pessimistic although I ask that you refrain from being lewd about it. When I love someone, I make a hole for them, and in turn I hope that they would make a hole for me. And this metaphorical hole I create is for them to pour their love. To fill it to the brim, and I in turn would do the same. But often, I’ve found, that people cannot fill the hole I made, so I adjust it. I compromise, make adjustments, make it shallower and smaller in the hopes that eventually they will be able to fill it. I will do this until my hole for them is but a pinprick and it still remains empty. While this is going on, I am draining myself for them. Giving them everything I have and will have, bending over backwards because I love them.

And I know actions like this seems toxic but when both people are giving all they can into a relationship, then it is a loving and stable relationship, right? In truth, love is toxic until it is reciprocated, then you’re dubbed “one of the lucky ones.”

Back to my hole theory. Sometimes, people can fill the hole that you made, but then they change their minds, and they leave. And when they leave, you now have an empty hole to fill yourself. Often, at first, it seems like an unfillable chasm that only they could fill, but, over time, you slowly are able to fill it in with your own self care and self love, until there is no longer a hole there and you are able to move on. Now based on this theory, I hate love. Because why on earth do I keep gong through the trouble of ripping open holes in myself where I have already healed, only to be disappointed time and time again? It leaves me exhausted.

Now many at this point may think, “well if they can’t fill the hole then find someone who does.” But it’s not that easy for me, you see. When I love someone and I rip open a hole in my soul for them, that hole stays open and I become terrified of filling it myself for fear that they will come back, ready to fill it and be put off by the fact that I’ve already done it myself.

#love #relationship #breakup #heartbreak #enby #nonbinary #ramblings #writers on tumblr #author #writer #poet #metaphor #crush

[enbyramblings]

Eat the Rich but also Educate the Middle Class

Because if I have to have one more argument with someone who's never had to worry about food about why my family needs the benefits they get so my baby siblings can eat, I'm gonna lose it.

My parents work their asses off and it's not their fault that the cost of loving has sky rocketed, why are people so against children having enough money to eat???

#eat the rich #classism #enby #nonbinary #lgbtqia #lgbt #lgbtq #ramblings #activism #universal healthcare #welfare #lower class #middle class

[enbyramblings]

Why I Hate Love

“So why do you hate love?” He asked me a few days after one drunken night when I had announced as such.

My initial thought was to exclaim that that wasn’t true, but the more I thought of it, the more I realized the truth behind my drunken slurs. 

I do hate love.

I hate Hollywood for telling me that rose petals would rain down when we met eyes. I hate my mother for telling me that when you meet the right person “you’ll just know.” I hate every man that has ever told me he loved me with lust-filled eyes. I hate that love is nothing like I was told it would be. 

I hate love because I am tired. I am tired of giving my all to people who I think are good at the time, but I discover far too late were only interested in giving me crumbs. I am tired of feeling like I am only loved for what my body can give them and not what my mind might encourage in them. I am exhausted from trying desperately to find the happily ever after that I was promised since I was little. Some may argue, that I am too young to be exhausted from love, but I disagree. 

My emotional stamina has run dry. I refuse to put up a fight for someone to love me any more. I refuse to go searching for something that may not be out there. I will not hold out hope that I might get to be “one of the lucky ones.” The rhetoric I have been fed about love since childhood has been like poison in my veins. To ask me to hurt this much for an ounce of good is cruel. There is no prize in the world worth what I have given in my pursuit of love. Thus, I pull myself out of the running completely. 

I am tired, 

I am exhausted,

 and I hate love.

#love #enby #nonbinary #writers on tumblr #writer #author #poet #poetry #breakup #heartbreak #relationship #selflove #ramblings #crush

[enbyramblings]

My brain is bullying me again today but I've noticed it's like the same 3 things from last time? Like, get some new material loser

#mental health #mental illness #nonbinary #enby #lgbtqia #lgbt #lgbtq #funny #dumb brain things

[enbyramblings]

A Love Letter to My Ex's New Partner

I love you.

I have never met you and I hope I never have to, but I love you. I love you because you make the man I loved happy. I love you because you've managed to do what I could not. He's become so much more committed, and patient, and kind since you. He was not those things with me.

I love you because you are what I could not be. You are his early morning cuddles and late-night texts. You are his "one phone call away." His lover, his muse.

The other day, he even put a picture of you on his Instagram. I love you because he is unafraid to share you with the world. He seems to genuinely enjoy taking you out. Where I only saw darkness, you get to see light.

I love you because I have to. If I didn't, I might suffocate from the overwhelming pressure that I should have moved on by now too. I love you because if I don't, then I might hate you; and while I don't mind loving a stranger, I refuse to hate one.

To love someone is to wish them happiness, how selfish would my love be if I grew to hate you, knowing how much joy you bring him?

Should I go my whole life hating my best friend's new life partner?

No.

I could never do that to him or to you. Maybe I will meet you at the wedding, or some reunion. Maybe we will never meet at all.

I hope we never meet at all.

I hope I get to love you from afar as I love him from afar. And may your joy together last as long as it is meant to. It is because I love you, that I would never intervene.

Sincerely,

His First

#enby #nonbinary #lgbt #queer #heartbreak #love #breakup #heartache #relationship #moving on #letting go #healing #strength #ramblings #writer #writers on tumblr #letter #writing #author #diary #love letter

[enbyramblings]

A Beginning

I wonder if it a bad thing or a freeing thing to put thoughts out into the internet like this. It's out there, but at what cost? What do I hope to gain from this?

Fame?

No.

Money?

No.

I just need a place to vent when my journal doesn't quite cut it. When my words flow better in text than the pen. Just a chance to throw my words at the wall and see what sticks.

Maybe I'm a tad overdramatic, I have been told as such so it is not that much of a stretch, but on the off chance that my words reach someone who needs to hear them, or feels the way I do. Then perhaps my anonymous vulnerability is worth it. I am, after all, safely tucked behind this screen. So honestly...

Who's going to stop me?

Welcome to an Enby's Ramblings. I hope you enjoy for stay.

#Enby #nonbinary #writers on tumblr #author #writer #poetry #writing #diary #ramblings #emotion