Tumgik
#queer heartbreak
queerwordweaver · 6 months
Text
I loved you on purpose because it felt impossible not to.
53 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
maurice (1987)
13 notes · View notes
wisteriaminx · 4 days
Text
platonic love is a different type of magic but wow that heartbreak is forever.
- @wisteriaminx
5 notes · View notes
Text
I fell in love once before, I tell the empty subway car, it was a long time ago, and I guess maybe the wound never healed right. Still aches when rain is coming. Twinges when there's going to be a storm. Swells a little in the early morning when I've just woken up from a dream--
As if on cue, blood drops, meaty and congealed, onto the floor.
It's healed a little, I insist, clutching at the wound edges. Just not all the way.
It's healing, I say as we slide into the station before mine, the buzzy florescents banding across the floor, glimmering on the slick surface. I was in love a while ago and it has to be over now. I have to stop hoping because everytime--
A woman gets on the train. She sits in the opposite corner, doesn't blink at the thick, coppery scent. I finish in a whisper--every time I think about him it gets deeper. It might not heal.
I button up my sweater, wipe my bloody hands on a Pret napkin. Leave the napkin on the blue seat, leave the chunky puddle on the train floor.
I wait for the doors to open. Breathe through the pain on the escalator up to the sun.
I was in love once-- Nevermind. It needs to be over now. I swallow tepid Manhattan morning, square my shoulders. Can't get blood on the corporation. Got to man up. It has to be over. The longer my body holds on to hope, the larger the wound tears. It choose when it's done grieving.
I'd rather clean desolation then bloody, spewing hope.
I hope it runs out soon. The hope. I wash my hands when I get to the office, watch the water run rusted brown. Laugh with a coworker-Cold, isn't it? That HVAC, ha, hotter it gets out there... - gesturing to my sweater. We both politely ignore the seeping orange around the buttonholes.
At some point I'm going to throw up a kidney or lung or something in these sinks. A heart. Not even throw up, might just adjust the sweater and it'll fall out.
I hope it stops soon. Before I scare a coworker. I'm glad the office carpeting is black.
I go to my desk, trying not to think I've been in love--
8.8.22
15 notes · View notes
ryskyourheart · 1 year
Text
When feeling loved is about more than waiting for someone to come along and pick you up,
But about being able to pick yourself up too, dust off the pain, and keeping working for you,
It feels like it's all for nothing.
I don't know if I can ever love me, so I think that means I can never truly be loved. Or at least I'll never truly be ready for it, as much as I feel like I want it.
Maybe someone still wants to fix someone broken, but nobody deserves to have to do that.
You say 'i can fix them' but honey, that's never been your job. Let yourself be happy and live a life full of joy and laughter and wonder.
They can fix themselves. Maybe.
And if they can't, then it will be okay, because not everyone needs to be fixed.
It hurts so bad, but I will try to heal. I don't think I'm someone who can be fixed, but that's just because my breaks are more like little cracks and chips.
I am full of the small imperfections that you ignore; the nick in the spoon from getting stuck in the disposal, the crack in the bowl from where it fell not far enough to break, the piece missing from the outside of the cup that is too thick to affect the quality.
Some of these things show my resilience, but some of them are just the straws building up until they finally break the back of my camel.
I don't always know what each of them are, but I know I live in fear of the day that the crack gives way, and the slow leak you can wipe away becomes a spill, a drain, and you have to throw the whole thing away.
Maybe I need some kintsugi, but maybe the glaze is cracked and I'm already gone, I just don't know it yet.
I'm just a bleeding cup, a day-old rice container, soup that's sat out all night and gained a skin. It's already ruined. It can't be saved.
I can't be saved.
I can't be loved.
Especially by me.
4 notes · View notes
annemarieyeretzian · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
artemis-pendragon · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Queering the Map in Gaza and the West Bank
24K notes · View notes
clumsyjack · 2 days
Text
I have random
Fits of tears
Attacking me
When i think
Of you
0 notes
that-alex-nerd · 3 months
Text
Sometimes I just miss them so much.
I hate how people pass in and out of my life, sometimes in a “fade away and you can reach out but it’s not the same” way and sometimes in a “definite split and don’t know that we can ever be friends” way. I don’t know which hurts more - the ones I could reach out to but my anxiety holds me back or the ones I can’t reach out to without hurting them more.
Often when I reach an overly-reflective place I miss them. They gave me the safest love I’ve ever known and I realized that the type of relationships we wanted didn’t match but I miss them as a person so much any time my mind lets me. I broke it off and I know it hurt them and they said they couldn’t foreseeable ever go back to being friends. I respect that… because I really still love them. I think they took a piece of my heart and I don’t deserve to have it back but it still aches from time to time.
So I just sit in the pain and wait for morning to lighten it enough to breathe.
0 notes
discluded · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Full article here. Please give it a click to support this kind of journalism! (I snipped out the highlights for a shorter read)
The state of Utah in the United States has no citizenship requirements for marriage licenses, and Utah County is the only place there that allows international couples to register their marriages online. Since the county rolled out virtual weddings during the Covid-19 pandemic, it became a wedding haven for same-sex couples who are not able to officially marry in their own countries.
As sexual minorities in China face suppression at home, Utah County is allowing them to officially marry and celebrate their love — all for around $100. Although the marriages aren’t recognized in China, some 200 same-sex couples from mainland China and Hong Kong have gotten married via the county’s digital marriage license system since 2021.
For authorities in Utah County, the influx of international couples came as a surprise. The Utah County and Auditor’s Office moved its marriage licensing service online, as part of a digitization initiative in 2019. At the start of the pandemic, a number of couples requested Zoom ceremonies, and the county made those available as well.
The service first attracted couples in Utah, followed by people from across the U.S., and later, from all over the world. From May 1 to September 20 this year, at least 77 same-sex couples with mainland Chinese addresses have been married there, said county deputy clerk Russ Rampton, who oversees marriage licensing, to Rest of World.
Although same-sex marriage remains illegal in Hong Kong, under a different set of laws to mainland China, residents who get married in other places are able to apply for dependent visas in the city for their partners. Married gay people are also able to mark themselves as married in tax filings.
In his vow, however, [one marriage certificate applicant] Zhu said he was looking forward to getting married a second time — in China. “If one day our country allows this, I hope we could get married again in this country,” Zhu said to his husband before they kissed.
**
Marriage equality does not stop in the West.
48K notes · View notes
wisteriaminx · 7 days
Text
i’ve been having such terrible gender dysphoria since my partner and i split. I miss my best friend and being able to just vent about life and societies norms that have been shoved down our throats. queer heartbreaks hurt so bad that i can see the beauty in every piece but fuck this is awful.
6 notes · View notes
Text
Oh. Here I am. It’s late October, and I’m listening to my friend’s music and working. It’s dark outside. She’s dying her hair in my bathroom. My roommate is doing a puzzle on the floor, but she goes to help get the back even. I can hear them talking about hair colors and old memes. It’s gotten dark outside but we forgot to close the blinds, the lamp reflecting small pools in the plum sky, and I just did laundry, folding the towels into crisp corners. Hey, remember when this was all we wanted? When did growing up mean losing all the people you used to want to grow old with?
Remember when we thought building a home was the answer? We were right. I want to cry. It’s not your home, but I put up these string lights. I went to Trader Joes and I bought these marigolds, trimmed their stems, put them into old jars. I did that with these hands you held, once.
I steady myself on the counter, stuck in time, my mouth full of ice. I know this is what I wanted. I know it is better than anything else. I’ve arrived. I feel settled, and at the same time like nothing can be right because none of the people sitting around me are the people I imagined. Here is my future, but I’m so fucking sad. Why does everyone have to leave? I get up in the middle of the night, stand in my bathroom and let myself be a little afraid of losing them, too. I don’t want to lose these friends, this family, but I wish I could go back in time and warn myself. Warn myself to save you. Warn myself to hold on. Warn myself to learn to say goodbye.
I feel like I’m writing my own story, finally. I woke up at 8 pm the other day and went to buy ice cream at CVS with that friend, you know the one I wanted to get closer to but I thought she was too cool for me? Yeah, we hang out now. It was really okay, in the end. She thought I was cool too, just like you said she would. Autumn shivers at my green sweater sleeves, city lights blurring purple and pink underfoot. I smile at her in the dark, and it is coming awake after a realistic dream, realizing all at once you’re in the real world now, safe. Cognitive dissonance makes my head hurt. I can’t mourn something I just imagined having. Just wrote a letter when I was fourteen to someone across the world who I thought was my future, and now I’m in CVS experiencing it with someone else, and I don’t think you actually care. It’s so unfair. But I’m still so sad. But my heart is still breaking.
I can’t help scrolling down to your name in my contacts, knowing my friends would love you, aching for a future that looks exactly like the present but my knee is resting against your’s. Hey, I’ve built that future we wrote poems about. Hey, I still miss you. Hey, do you think of me sometimes?
I was sitting outside eating breakfast and feeding the pigeons yesterday, and I shut my eyes against the sun, and I instinctively reached for the ring you gave me, the one I used to wear every single day, and then it wasn’t there. You aren’t here.
Do you think of me? Are you building your own version of the life we promised to give to each other? Does it make you sad I’m not in it? 
I don’t know how to not miss you when I’m happy.
10.23.22
4 notes · View notes
ryskyourheart · 1 month
Text
Hiraeth No More
——————————————
I never thought that someone who became one of the best friends I’ve ever had
Would so quickly become someone I wish I’d never met.
I don’t regret the time we shared. Or I didn’t think I did. But I start to regret it more and more each time.
I don’t know what you think I did. If it’s something that I don’t even know about. But clearly there’s something terrible if you claim you can ruin my whole reputation.
Ha. Not that I have much of one.
I can’t decide if I’d rather go back to the good times, and just enjoy them deeper and make sure I change my actions in the bad parts and at the end. Or if I’d prefer to just forget it all ever happened.
You would say I should pick the second one because the first one isn’t possible. And that I need to move on.
But I don’t think you ever considered that neither are possible for me. They’re both just fantasies. So why not dream?
I always thought I’d never had a nightmare. But if I’m not careful, you will be one.
How I wish you were just a dream. Not a bad dream. Just a good one that turned weird and bad in the end.
I don’t have anything to be afraid of. But I still am. That’s anxiety, after all.
I was so afraid of hurting you and then I guess I still did. I messed up. I wish I hadn’t. I was so careful. I guess we were never right anyway.
Hope you have the life you deserve, baby.
1 note · View note
future-crab · 3 months
Text
It's been said before, it will be said again, but it's still worth saying: the fact that art centering on straight romance is allowed to just be bad, but art with queer romance in it always has to be indicative of A Serious Problem With the Way We Tell Queer Stories makes being a queer person making queer art deeply stressful
1K notes · View notes
gayingawaythepray · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
0 notes