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I am the creator of this group but duty calls for my chosen career path in the animation industry for games & films. I am working my butt off, in school and at home too prepare for the long run. I could not bare too delete this group since DA is in need of a place for all Trans people and their supporters! Please, send all your thanks too the new Co-Founder for being the new Co-Owner while I am away. ~
While the Founder is busy with preparing for his life long career, I was given the honor too run the group in his place & I took up on that offer. If you have any questions/concerns, please note me. It might take AWHILE for the Founder too respond too your note.
My duty is to help out around the group as an extra aid for the Founder; Accepting/Declining Memberships, Making sure deviations are in the appropriate folders,replying to comments, etc. But I do need to remain active in order to continue being a Contributor.~
Insomnia revisitedFor most of my life, to drift off to sleep,
I build little fantasies in my mind.
In them I'm a man, the man that is me,
Instead of the woman most know.
The thought was a comfort, easing me to rest.
But at times it goes away.
I lay there and try, forever, it seems,
But am failing more and more.
The fantasy me ends up with breasts,
And rips me out of bed.
I live the horror in real life,
Why must I dream of it too?
So I get up, bleary-eyed, desperate for sleep,
And stare into space for a time.
Then stagger back to bed, and try again,
Until my body closes my eyes.
Dreams haunt my sleep, and nightmares claw in,
And gut my soul all the more.
My sleeping's as bad, as when I'm awake,
Reinforcing the hate that I feel.
The woman who's body, most people see,
Is not the man that is me.
So please, let me make my fantasies,
And make sleep an escape, once again.
The Bright Side of DyslexiaI was born with auditory dyslexia.
I once heard of someone who wrote, directed, and coastguard in their own movie.
I knew what the right word was, but it still got me thinking:
About the invigorating music of waves crashing against my vessel,
The challenge of serving to the best of my skills,
The pride of keeping the shores of my homeland safe.
That was how I found my career,
And it's been just as rewarding as I had hoped.
An episode of CSI mentioned literature marks on the vic's neck,
Which inspired a fulfilling side project of poetry.
In a later CSI, taunts were exchanged:
"I'm the king of the jingle here! You don't stand a chants!"
"That's what you think! This isn't my first radio!"
(It wasn't a very well-written episode.)
Anyway, with that I tried adding tunes to my rhymes.
The result was better than I expected;
A local morning show even played one of my works on the radio!
My girlfriend told me she needed a shoulder to crayon.
This inspired me to
I'm not alone, descriptors pull me apart from within.
Inadequate gestures and behind - It's unintended will!
Anguish I cannot escape, the demon possessed by an angel.
When will light finally fall on my true face.
Nature, in Transit
Imagine you, what force partook in my creation, what duties dealt by unseen minions of life and change.
To soon set upon me a fire which burns within, sent to war the artistry that sculpted two separate truths of body and soul.
Cut me with a blade forged in independence but tempered in the frigid lake of social deception.
Free me from burden, so that I embody all in mind, which is mine, to embrace and use befitting my will.
Waking UpOnce again I was sitting in his car,
for the fourth time,
It was me and the guys from class.
The music was loud, with lots of bass.
I was smiling, having a great time.
And just like the last times,
I also felt like one of the guys this time.
Laughing at their jokes,
Ones that girls usually just think of as stupid,
Or that girls usually don't see the humor in.
I also felt more comfortable and entertained.
Because I felt like I was where I belong.
I was actually one of the guys, a guy.
I looked down,
And I noticed something I hadn't noticed the other times.
I was sitting in the backseat,
And since it was a full car,
My leg was right beside one of the guys'.
I've always been told I'm tall,
and I am,
compared to most girls.
My legs, which had always been so long,
Were suddenly so short.
My knees which I had always thought was a tad too big,
Were suddenly so small.
Both had suddenly gotten so small,
so round, not fat,
just so womanly.
His legs were so lon
I'm Even More Homeless NowTrigger warnings for: homophobia, depression, anorexia, self-harm, suicide
My home was Venezuela. Forget what you've been told about the gorgeous coastlines, about the angelic waterfall, about the snow-peaked mountains. Those were saved for rich foreigners who could afford to fly in for a few days and forget about the rest of the world theirs and mine.
But I should stop being so dramatic. The people I lived with and me, we were in the middle-class. I had no idea what that meant at the time, of course. All I knew was that the black beans were plentiful, the cheese was sweet, the meat was savoury, and there were enough cachapas to last my whole life; the mall nearby was the most beautiful, plentiful, mysterious building I'd ever find; I worked through books like a termite through wood and I loved them more than anything; everyone else was just like me; and this was the best of all possible worlds.
But I was a little stupid boy. When I was six, I was bro
You're Not a Boy"I thought it would make the pain go away," He whispers, looking at himself in the mirror. He traces one of the red puffy scars under his chest where B-cups used to be. The skin is still so puffy and sore, but he trails it with feather-like touches. "You know, make me feel more like . me. A boy. But, now I just have these ugly, stupid scars. They remind me that, no matter how hard I try, I'm still not a boy."
Brooklyn, standing behind him, places her chin on his shoulder and wraps her arms around his waist. Her fingertips slip under the waistband of his jeans and of his boxers.
"You're scars," she says, kissing his neck. "Are anything but ugly and stupid." Brooklyn says strongly, her voice not more than a breathless whisper ghosting over heated skin. "They show me that my boyfriend is brave, and strong, and absolutely brilliant. That you're a fighter and you've persevered and overcome more than others our age will ever even begin to comprehend.
"You're right, though," Brooklyn say
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