Context

I've been thinking a lot about the "stories" that we tell ourselves. The narratives that make up our collective, often forgotten, histories. For survival. For validation.

My stories just don't match. Parts of my body are still here. Parts of my past, parts of my thoughts are here. Most of me isn't going anywhere.

So I'll pass on the tips, the lessons, the resocialization...

Yes I notice...I'm still ovulating...not bleeding, just ovulating, and yes, I'm a guy who ovulates, and it won't be like this forever...and I will fight to love myself now..just as much as I plan to love myself when that no longer happens.

I will not be made invisable by your stories. Sometimes, it seems, I am so quiet beucase my story doesn't make sense. Sometimes I think I am living in the wrong context.