bravery is a dollar store razor

My femininity, well my conscious awareness thereof, began with a negative realization.

I am NOT a man.

Differentiation is the most basic of reasoning skills. (Though, I’m not sure how many trans women start from there.)

I’ve always wanted to be a girl.✮

♀ Most of my childhood crushes had odd aspects of jealousy attached to them.

♀ I remember telling my grandmother I wished I was a girl. She told me I didn’t. I guess she knew the yonic burden better than I.

♀ I got to dress up as a woman one Halloween. I got ma’am-ed all night long at the church function. It was wonderful. 

✮ I’ve always actually been a girl.

However, my body has been largely defined by testosterone. Most of my life was lived underneath that terrible masculine mask.

I don’t forget that. I won’t forget that. I can’t forget that.

So despite my sassy bitchery, I don’t quite look like your average woman. There is a prodigious amount of hair all over my body. That same body stores fat (ohhh, I gots plenty of that) in typically male patterns. Despite my infirment, I’ve still got most of the strength which testosterone made easy for me to come by…

With a 5 o’clock shadow and a huge gut, sometimes it was a bit hard for me to look in the mirror and see a woman.

Until I came to a new realization: I am an ogress, a sex ogress from fucking outer-space.

I take the hair off my face, because I don’t want it there. (The bushy ass beard I kept was a big part of my masculine mask.) I irregularly shave my tits because… well I want them to be the glorious tits they are… if sometimes slightly fuzzy. The rest of me stays as is…

…because I am an ogress, and I will punch your beauty standards in nonexistence.

I’ve always identified with monsters, anyways, so this is probably less self-deprecating than you might imagine. (Oh, sure, there is some of that in there, too.)

My gut, my body hair, my jawline all make sense. I am an ogress, a different example of femininity: a tough as nails vision of femininity. My very own way to be the woman, I always should have been.

I’m ready to fight. I'm ready to face it all, head-on, because I found my secret reality. 

I am a fairly hairy, not small, but very fuckable ogress from outer space. I’m not so bothered by it anymore.

I might have accidentally modeled my gender
after Amethyst and LSP. I like purple I guess.

Plus, shaving your legs is a real bitch.

WHY ARE THE TERRIBLE CULTISTS NECESSARY?

The Indigo Consumption spreads terrible wings.

[◙] Easy Mode – To appease the horrible thing from beyond with actions that are less terrible than destroying the entire planet. This leaves a great deal of wiggle room for some truly reprehensible rites.

{◙} Twist – It’s going to destroy the planet anyway when it feels like it. It doesn’t actually care what mortals are doing.

[◙] Medium Mode – There is a fragile ecosystem of souls in the afterlife. “Evil” souls are detrimental… but not to the degree that “good” souls positively impact the afterlife. (A crude but efficient way to explain it: think of good souls as vegetative producers, creating the energy that sustains whole heavens and entire hells. [Some “good” souls are still assholes, way too into punishment.] Wicked souls are bit like herbivores, playing a useful part but not so important. Then truly “evil” souls range from carnivores to terrible diseases in the ecosystem of beyond… It doesn’t work exactly that way, but, eh, close enough. )
So to keep the afterlife running smoothly, sacrifices must be made. A toddler is rarely wicked, an infant even less so…
Some don’t have the stomach for that so they instead hunt down wicked beings… before the cretins can become truly awful.

{◙} Twist – doesn’t really need a twist… other than to be true. The PCs might be horrified to realize that the baby eating cult they just murdered and the folks that hired them to bust up the local thieves guild are one in the same.

I’ll think up a Hard mode, later… maybe.

WHY ARE THERE SO MANY WEIRD CULTISTS?

• All butchers must give up their firstborn, in service to the blood god.
• All haberdashers are in secret alignment with the gods of fate. The seams will hold or fail as they must, not as they should.
• Children in bad homes know but one sure way to escape: swear yourself in service perpetual to the Jolly Queen of Sugarplum Fairies. This has long been her readiest supply of mortal servants.
• Almost all itinerant tinsmiths and sharpeners of shears swear secret oaths to peculiar gods.
• Widows sometimes hear the whispering of things long dead.

a quiet place, abandoned - far western oklahoma

the fading, rusting memory
of inconsequential recent history
a galvanized tower now owned only by ants

Horror exposed expression, emitted and remitted.

Collegiate briefly learn. Yearn and finally find release.

Relief always purchased in future pain. If it even waits that long.

-_▪]•○▪¤□○♢☆

Middling bending trilling along
So long
Wizard eye, <(●)>°•○▪¤☆
Wizard sleep.
Cloud the present, pain and all,
Via milky crystal ball.

Seen past dreams of whiskey streams.
I broke across the happy fog
Of memory distant longs
For release
Too sweet.

Pseudo Manifesto

To all my libertarian friends (and anybody else that wants me to be ashamed of poverty)

First, by your own values I owe you nothing. However, I have to live with me so I consider politics and morality on the reg.

I am not ashamed of being poor. A lot of how I got here had to do with shame and fear, but let me lay it out plainly:

Your position does not give you exclusive license to morality, to a sense of worth.

I need help right now. My family needs help right now. I’ll stop accepting help just as soon as I don’t need it. In the meantime, I’ll figure out how I can help. Why wouldn’t I?

Well why don’t you just get a job?
1. I am not physically capable of performing any of the dead end jobs I could land.
2. I have a job. I work. All the time. It’s words and images I shape, but it is work nonetheless.
3. If I were to go to work at Walmart, what would it land me?
  a. A great deal of pain.
  b. Possibly slightly more money than I make as a starving artist.
  c. Spending 40+ hours a week in abject misery.

I’ve done all that already. (And when I was a libertarian I participated in NO entitlement programs, you asshole conservatives with EBT cards…)Fuck that. And importantly, I cannot do these jobs.

With government assistance, Sharaya and I can keep the kids and ourselves fed, clothed, and reasonably happy. With little help from family, we are currently sheltered. My words draw in enough money to more or less cover the rest… not that very much more is actually necessary.

Is it the misery that makes the work valid?

Without government assistance? … well that is a scary prospect.

But what about theft? GOVERNMENT HAS BEEN IS STEALIN’
The things you more successful folks have created, were not created in a vacuum. You had help whether you liked it or not.

Trying to decide how much of everything everyone deserves out of everything all the time seems like a crazy fucking way to live.

No wonder I was so fucking tired and angry as a Randian.

So instead, everybody pay in. There is a social safety net.

Without being totally concerned about whether or not our children starve, myself and many others are free to swing for the fences with new and exciting ideas. The people more concerned with certainty are still allowed to act like that. You are still free to generate gross amounts of wealth… just nobody has to die in the fucking streets.

Do you not see that without that safety net, our lives are significantly more dangerous and less free?

Do you really think that $8 /hr you got for flipping burgers in high school was solely created by you?

Do you believe that your inheritance is somehow earned exclusively by you, if you have such a luxury? By what? The accident of birth? Was smiling at great grandma actually, factually worth several million dollars?

Anyway, I’m not ashamed of where I am. I am trying to get better, be better.

I’m also willing to help you, if I can (and if you’d let me).

So anyway before leveling that most horrid accusation that I am nothing but a terrible blight on your bright futures, some fucking leech to your otherwise shining success…

Before you do that, please take a step back.

And go ahead and fuck your own face off.

Love and Void,
Evey -_-]