Once I began to receive my benefits, I began to distance myself from an idea that productivity defines whether I am deserving of respect.
Wanting to take space as a fat brown genderqueer femme is all fun and games until the folks who domineer the space take notice.
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My therapist tells me that everything said in this room will remain in between the two of us. He asks me why I came in today, and I wonder if I can tell him so much.
I was constantly exhausted pretending that I was always okay. Trying to prove to myself that maybe I wasn’t bipolar.
Society needs me / But I cannot feed the hologram
Dissociation makes perfect sense when folks have constantly been abused, silenced, socialized a particular way, oppressed, and constantly have had boundaries broken, or don’t even know what their boundaries are.