In Another Universe, I Am Seven And Rolling Down A Hill With My Childhood Best Friend. Grass Stains Are

“Listen to me, your body is not a temple. Temples can be destroyed and desecrated. Your body is a forest—thick canopies of maple trees and sweet scented wildflowers sprouting in the under wood. You will grow back, over and over, no matter how badly you are devastated.”

— Beau Taplin (via quotethat)

“This is your daily, friendly reminder to use commas instead of periods during the dialogue of your story,” she said with a smile.

so the other day a castmate of mine was talking about having once been a little girl (at this point, i all but short-circuited because said castmate is a man in his mid-sixties and my brain had its little moment of “!!!!! trans person!!! and he’s OLD!!!!”) and being asked if there was a famous person he looked up to or wanted to look or be more like. and he said— again, as a little girl at this point— “santa claus!” and everyone thought he was weird for it.

and this story doesn’t read as well over text because you really have to see the guy. but he looks just like santa claus. he’s got the long white hair and the beard and the belly and everything. and i just. the amount of secondhand trans joy i experienced is truly insane. i’m gonna get old! i’m gonna get old the way i wanna get old! hey everybody you’re gonna get old; we’ve been doing it for years!

anyway shoutout to the santa claus of my cast and to every older trans person we love you so fucking much

i still believe that i can hear the ocean when i put a seashell to my ear. i still believe that the moon is following me when i'm in the car. i still believe there are fairies living in the garden. i still believe in those fabled creatures from my old storybooks. i still believe in true love. i will carry the magic of my childhood with me forever and it will keep me gentle.

W o Ah