so much of entering into queer relationships is knowing death, knowing that the dizzying swirl of life can crush you or your friend or your love like half-smoked cigarette at any time. we fight every moment of our lives and for some of us the fight is infinitely more…
“he wasn’t talking about immortality; he was talking about that underlying fear we all feel about those queer folks we love, that they will make it, that they can bear it, that we won’t have to watch them die. and it’s a fear we always feel for ourselves, too.”
For the past eight months, waking up has actually hurt. Cold realization that I’m still here slowly sets in. I was never terribly fond of waking up. I was never one to jump out of bed and greet the day with a smile as Jim was. I used to want to punch him sometimes in the morning he was so happy.
I always used to tell him that only fools could possibly escape the simple truth that now isn’t simply now: it’s a cold reminder. One day later than yesterday, one year later than last year, and that sooner or later it will come. He used to laugh at me and then give me a kiss on the cheek.
It takes time in the morning for me to become George, time to adjust to what is expected of George and how he is to behave. By the time I have dressed and put the final layer of polish on the now slightly stiff but quite perfect George I know fully what part I’m suppose to play.
Looking in the mirror staring back at me isn’t so much a face as the expression of a predicament: Just get through the goddamn day.
(Source: transquotes)
(Source: serialstranger)
words from poet, warrior audre lorde
I was going to die, sooner or later, whether or not I had even spoken myself. My silences had not protected me. Your silences will not protect you…. What are the words you do not yet have? What are the tyrannies you swallow day by day…
