if the situation did not involve me so deeply to the point where i am still laying here metaphorically bleeding out, miles away from the source of conflict, i think it would be laughable to once again observe that specific genre of White Queer tear down a good thing because they never learned the type of shame that made them reflect upon their own actions and faults. they have nothing but their own egos to blame for, and it’s us who suffer the consequences.

How unpleasant. I hope that the next time I hear of it, restitution will be paid.

in any event, i think that all of my attempts to take an extended mental health leave will always ultimately result in me betraying myself, because i’ve not actually been away from social media or game development work whatsoever. i’ve been sitting at my computer somewhat silently, trying my best not to dwell on the constant stream of horrors far and away from me as i hunt down nice distractions for my troubled mind. don’t catch me up to speed please—i know that another one of our trans sisters was murdered and that the zionists continue their war crimes, among other terrible things. the world keeps spinning and it would not be a good look if i were to make a bigger deal out of my current state of Mental Unwellness (yes, i have scheduled another therapy session already).

Something I tell myself, that I have yet to truly internalize, is that the work that I do is important, but that I myself am not an important person. It isn’t as though I have a formal education or training in community organizing; it comes rather intuitively to me. There are definitely skills such as familiarity with certain tools depending on the logistics of the work that needs to be done, but more vital is the willingness to do it, and continue doing it, and to strangle the selfish desire to be renown for it.

Though, sometimes I wonder if I’m setting myself up for failure.

I swear to you that I am trying to be better, not bitter. But it is hard for me to find and maintain my peace when I’m coerced into attending events where I know that I am not unwelcome but the invitation was extended to me out of desperate obligation.

(Please do not start conversations with me just so you can talk over me, and please do not feign curiosity about my life simply to spit in my face. i’m not interested. i’m not interested. exercise your polite distaste for my existence somewhere else where i don’t have to acknowledge yours either. do not force me into a panic attack and dissociative episode for the sake of your wedding.)

((i don’t want to think about my ex-spouse. i don’t want to think about that sad excuse of a ceremony, surrounded by faces i didn’t even know, wearing a cheap dress that i didn’t want to wear (i wanted to wear a qipao, why would you deny me this one feminine thing that i actually wanted?). i don’t want to think about my own lack of honeymoon. i don’t want to think about how they wanted to put a child in me when i made it clear that i didn’t want to be pregnant, ever, at least not with them. i don’t want to think about the times i let them fuck my ass because i was so desperate to be touched at all, even when they barely used any lube to prep me (it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt why doesn’t it feel good at all?).))

(((hey, none of this is relevant, idiot.)))

It’s fine.

I’m fine.

I have work to catch up on, after all.

I’ll be back at it soon.