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I love my brother but I find it difficult to be around him when on beach or around the house when he isn’t wearing a shirt. I’m just envious that he can do that, that he’s comfortable in his body. I wish I didn’t have boobs. I wish I could feel comfortable shirtless. I wish I was gendered as male. I wish I didn’t have to wear so many layers at the beach to feel remotely comfortable. I wish I could lounge comfortably. I wish I didn’t think about how people perceived me constantly. I wish I didn’t feel afraid of the consequences of those perceptions.

Feeling so fucking grateful for the communities I have in Toronto right now. I’m astounded at how much better I feel after a six minute phone call with someone. The emptiness in my chest and volatility I was feeling is suddenly gone and I can breathe again. So grateful to my friends who made it known they were available to me while I’m away.

On my way to an intake for therapy. They asked pronouns on the phone so I’m feeling pretty hopeful about it, but I’m still really nervous. I have trouble trusting these sort of institutions and feeling safe there. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see how it goes.

I feel empty. I feeling like my heart is an anchor and my body is mud. It keeps slowly sinking through me, tearing me in two and it’s excruciating. I try to fill the hole it leaves behind but nothing fits. I’ve tried the alcohol and drugs, caffeine and cigarettes, I’ve tried rituals and prayers, relationships and loneliness but the emptiness seems infinite.

Hung out with my queer crew today and it was awesome. Felt like I could breathe again after an incredibly stressful week and emotionally draining day. It’s nice having people in my life who actually listen and can make really good inferences about my actions and my person.

May I crawl into your chest and rest awhile? I cannot face the day alone, and I find the sky too blinding. Let me wrap myself around your heart and hum along to it’s beat. May I make a cave of your rib cage, use the bones not as bars but as refuge? I could play you a song along them and you could sing the words. May I use your skin as a shield against the pain? Learn its curves and scars and how you’ve healed from them, until I can face my own? I’m exhausted from long walks and too many tears. My head and bones ache with the weariness of the old. The anxiety shakes me too strongly. But I’ve seen your hands and your smile and they quietly bring me safety. So may I crawl into your chest and rest awhile?

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