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I wonder… why I refused to wear a dress to class. I love dresses, frills, TASSELS GODDAMMIT I’VE BEEN SEARCHING for 10 minutes… they’re my favorite thing in the world. Anyway. I’m rambling to no end like KyonKyon again. I sure inherit from them, a lot.
“You’d look lovely in a long skirt! gasp A DRESS!”
So. I wonder why I refused.
I love dresses.
Maybe it wasn’t me who was fronting.
But if I were there, I would probably hesitate too.
I want to stay non-binary, like this.
We all do.
“This is my style!” “I” said, “maybe. Maybe, okay? Occasionally.”
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I had a waking dream where I didn’t sleep. The rumble of real voices kept me awake, well, it was 5pm.
I heard the abusers telling each other that I might be dead, that they have killed someone. I heard the next-door neighbors/relatives calling our name, though it could very well just be a child with the same pet name.
When I got up, nothing has changed. Too bad.
Today, we fixed up Utakata and drafted the chords for Pareidolia. They are our passions in life. It would be a shame to depart without having published them.
One of them is the second song we’ve ever made… well, not really, as we’ve translated and covered a few songs, but this is a piano arrangement… not so original though. And the other is the song of Kyon.
At least there are no voices calling us right now. Not as a whore, a teacher, a songbird, a relative, or anything.
It was just a dream.
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Chúng tôi vừa đọc một bộ oneshot người cá… mà bạn người cá giống Cantor vailon…?
Còn nam chính thì–
F: Anh ơi, em sẽ KHÔNG BAO GIỜ ăn anh như thế! KỂ CẢ ĐÓI ĐI NỮA!!
C: cầm dao dĩa Vậy thì để tôi ăn anh nhé? Tôi vẫn “ăn” suốt–
F: Không (x5)
K: Hừm. Dạo này gu người cá có vẻ lên ngôi.
C: Chúng nó đẹp mà, yểu điệu, kiêu kỳ nhưng mãnh liệt.
K: Thế còn gu tóc dài phân mảnh biến thái đâu rồi nhỉ?
C: thở dài Vẫn đó mà. Đéo lẽ tôi là tập hợp của tất cả những thứ thời thượng đó chắc?
K: Đúng vậy!
C: Anh sai rồi.
F: Không nhưng mà anh đẹp lắm.
C: Còn anh suốt ngày nói không.
F: Làm người cá một hôm đi anh.
C: Ơ kìa, anh không muốn tôi đi siêu thị với anh nữa à?
F: CÓOOO!!
C: Vậy đó, nếu mà người cá đi siêu thị là sẽ xỉu luôn tại quầy cá đó. Nên là anh liệu hồn.
F: Đã rõ! Đến quầy cá anh là gà peregrine. Đến quầy gà anh quay lại thành cá.
C: Không phải thế. Cho tôi làm con rồng hay gì đó đỡ bị ăn thịt hơn đi.
F: Rồng người ta càng ăn thịt anh ạ!
C: Phải rất hôi và dai vì vận động nhiều chứ? À đâu, rồng vận động ít, nhưng chắc sẽ có độc chứ… nhỉ?
F: Rồng gì thì rồng nhưng con nào lạ là phải nếm thử một miếng!!
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Mua quà sinh nhật!
Momy: Con ơi, con phải biết lựa chọn đi chứ!
K: Thì đây, những cái mình mặc thử đã là chọn tốt nhất rồi còn j! MỖI NGƯỜI MỘT CÁI!!
Mọi người: YÊEEEEEE!!!!!
K: RIÊNG CANTOR THỜI TRANG ĐƯỢC 2 CÁI!!!
C: Yê… cười mỉm
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If following our interest 2 hrs per day gives us so many benefits, then it’s better as a priority, not something at the bottom rung… he said.
Why do these words resonate so much? Why does it call for tears?
It is something we’ve always wanted to hear.
Have we been neglected?
We are adults now.
And still, we overly rely on others’ authority, even those who have none over us. Simply, they are friends, family, neighbors, older people, wiser people, people who ask something from us, people who gave us money, people who helped us, people who ridiculed us.
And not one of those authorities understood us.
At least, none of them told us to… go do what we want, until it’s a bit too late. Not too, too late, like death, but something in between.
At least, at the very least, none of them, absolutely none, will be kind to us as we are. Or respect us.
Is this the thing that criminals feel all the time? I don’t think so… but how are we different from an ex-criminal, exactly? How can you tell?
“You can tell. You look so naive and powerless.”
What’s the difference between a victim and an ex-criminal if they’re all stoned to death anyway? The funeral? The funeral would be a disgrace either way.
Why do we feel this urge to hide after having been discovered for something we’ve always hoped to get an audience for?
Well, where did the audience came from?
From a manipulator.
We can claim fun for ourselves, now that more people have seen our writings.
But we have no say over the narrative.
Even when we were there, we didn’t get a say at all.
And that’s… I don’t wanna say it’s fine, but it is “fine”, in the sense that it has always happened, it has always been this way, no one is hurt but us, everyone else is smiling, and the curtains close once again.
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“Con mà còn nói thế nữa là mẹ điên tiết lên đấy!”
It’s almost funny how this is a reaction from an orderly person, trying to rectify “me” for not expecting ourself to live for very long, and thus, joking that we deserve a frivolous diet.
Momy: What kind of scoundrel said this to you??
I smile back.
C: I can’t think of anyone who did. (It was me, us, the way we processed everything we’ve been given.)
M: You gotta live positively!
I stay quiet, because I cannot fulfil that. I have lost my mask that I often used to adapt immediately to someone’s will. I smile back.
There’s no other call yet – have they given up? – but surely, this implies that Genevieve is no damsel. The call was directly to our Nemlandian phone number, without a warning from any Nem friend. LinkedIn… doxxing… maybe. Well, our info is out in the open. We’ll still know it’s her.
