.fashionista fag hag.

i still remember the last day of the 5th grade. it was hot. so fucking hot and we were all sticky from eating snow cones out of those little paper cups. the whole school was gathered outside in the blazing texas sun by the flagpole for the end of year ceremony. the other kids my age would be returning the following year, but i was switching to a better school (a year early because it was easier to get accepted as an elementary student). i wasn’t particularly disappointed about leaving my friends. they weren’t really that nice to me and that was essentially the last of my friendships with white girls for many years to come. but there was this one boy, ian. he was tall and sweet and he is still fine as hell to this day (god i love facebook). i remember having to say goodbye to ian but not understanding why it was so difficult. we stood under the shade of a little tree, crying, and hugged each other for a long time, too young to articulate why we hoped so badly that we’d stay in touch and that we both knew we wouldn’t. perhaps that seems like some pretty intense melodrama for 11 year olds, but i never did cope well with endings. 

leaving my middle school was even harder for me, if you can imagine it. for the first time in a  while i felt so comfortable in my own skin. i had a very diverse and very close-knit circle of brilliant friends. and i really mean brilliant. we were always those kids who were causing trouble and outsmarting someone to get away with it. there was a strong sense of community in that place and i was terrified to let it go, we all were. i remember how much we cried together in the last weeks of school, but for the life of me i can’t remember how we spent our last day. and honestly that doesn’t bother me now, maybe it’s even better that way. i was probably just kissing some boy. i did a lot of that in middle school.

high school was a little different. there were definite highs and lows. my best friend was pregnant and i remember walking with her down the main stairs on the last day of our junior year. neither of us were sure we’d be coming back the next year. we laughed it off, joking that it may be our last time taking those stairs together. to both of our surprise, she returned to finish her senior year and i did not. for all i know that actually was the last time we took those stairs together. but life was sweet! it was finally summer and there was so much to look forward to! perhaps i was growing, learning to adapt to change. then again, perhaps the ending was just easy because i didn’t know it was the end.

i’ve never known what to say when people ask me where i see myself in the future. i never would have guessed that this is where i’d be, but then again i was never into taking guesses. truly i’ve always known what i wanted to do with my life, but i didn’t always know that i could. i’ve spent the last 5 years in college studying everything from political science to art history and what i ended up with was a degree in women’s and gender studies and the courage to pursue my dreams as a musician. i still have some online classes to finish before i’m totally done with my undergraduate studies, but essentially my life as a college student is over. so here i am again, at the closing of another chapter. this time around i don’t think i’ll be clinging to anyone in tears but i probably won’t be skipping out the door either. i’ve finally come to realize that there is a plan for me. despite hurting a few people along the way, and being broken in ways i fear i may never heal from i ultimately learned invaluable lessons about love and confidence and silence. about oppression and sadness and God and responsibility. about me. i didn’t take every risk, but i’ve learned the importance of being independent and remaining humble. i’ve been a teacher as often as i’ve been a student and looking back it all seems like one long string of sleepless nights, just like this one.

i don’t have any regrets because i have faith in who i’ve become and what’s coming to me. i will look back fondly at my college years, although i feel more than ready to move on. depaul has been really cool to me but i really can’t wait to never again have to bullshit a paper on a book i haven’t read or take notes just to stay awake through a lecture. fuck every sexist professor and every so-called christian who was too holy to hear my story. fuck 8 AM classes and also 9:40 classes. long ass 6-9 night classes can also go to hell and so can the lady who wouldn’t let me into FEST. at the same time, i spent just as much time singing and twerking as i did reading and writing, so when i think about what else i could have been doing all this time i don’t wish to change a thing. even if running off to LA to take a swing at my music career doesn’t seem like the logical next step after graduation, i really don’t think i’d be ready for what’s next if i hadn’t gone through it. this ending is the ultimate in bittersweet. 

fabuleusetoujours:

wearing the blood of boys who claim to prefer ‘natural’ girls as lipgloss (✿◠‿◠)

whatshouldbetchescallme:

titytwochainz:

desireenahfret:

““It is illegal for women to go topless in most cities, yet you can buy a magazine of a woman without her top on at any 7-11 store. So, you can sell breasts, but you cannot wear breasts, in America.””— Violet Rose (via c-icatrix)

sealcat:

no literally never go out in public with me I will say “dog” every time I see a dog and I will say “hello” to every dog that I meet and if we’re having a conversation I will stop and point when a dog goes by 

I did this today. srsly. and it’s the same for babies. I like squishy tiny infants I don’t have to touch and I like aminals. yes, aminals.

last night I got really upset. I guess it doesn’t really matter what about. it wasn’t his fault though. it had nothing to do with him but in the moment I didn’t care and I cussed him out anyway. I yelled. he was so shocked at first he didn’t even react. but there were other people in the car with us so eventually he had to save face. cuss back. it escalated but not too far. and when everyone else got out of the car he stopped me to apologize. I cut him off. didn’t listen. walked away. still too upset
to care for an apology, even though it was me who was wrong. he had nothing to be sorry for. I cussed him out and it had nothing to do with him. wasn’t his fault this time. so much of the time it is his fault and I say nothing, suffer in silence. stew. eventually let it go. so maybe he had it coming. then I cried in rehearsal. the nice thing about being in a choir of worshippers is that seeing someone cry isn’t really all that out of the ordinary. I felt safe so I cried. later we were alone. all I could manage to say was I love you. no apology, although he probably deserved one. he didn’t mind. he told me how scared he was to see me like that. he’d never seen me so upset. he just kept saying he didn’t like it. he was pretty shaken by it all and in the middle of this conversation he took my hand. looked at my nails and smiled. told me how much he really liked the new color on me. kept going on and on about it which at the
time seemed so trivial. he bought a pack of newports and we smoked them out the windows of the van as we traveled up lakeshore toward my house. it was late. almost 2 in the morning and I hadn’t even noticed. we sang musiq soulchild. he has such a nice voice. sometimes I forget. I’ve been adored before. I’ve been in love. fallen, played house, talked about a ring. all that. but this feels different. this feels new. nothing like this. if these aren’t the ups and downs of love then I don’t know what they’d be. and it’s terrifying so I push him away but my biggest fear is that he’ll stop pushing back. I thanked him for the smoke. went upstairs alone. and i wrote a song.

d0esntmakesense:

jesuschristvevo:

do u ever look at someone and just like wow u have really nice eyebrows

Someone said that to me once. How weird is it to be complimented on your eyebrows? Of ALL the things, you chose that arched line of hairs above my eyes.. Right.

I compliment eyebrows all the time. I’m an eyebrow expert. a connoisseur. lol people are always so flattered because I’m also very critical of bad eyebrows. IDK THEY’RE JUST IMPORTANT TO ME

should be sleeping but instead I’m up writing. I was having so much trouble getting the words right and I realized it’s probably because I’m still so conflicted about the situation the song is about.
so do I: a] write from the heart and let the song decide what I should do? or b] figure out my issues and finish the song later?
eh. don’t answer that.