I don't know how to properly explain to people that I am genuinely in love with flowers. The smell, the taste, the feel, I would bury myself in petals until my clothes and skin are bruised with a galaxy of color, allergies be damned. Meet me in the lilacs and tell me secrets under their blossoming branches, we'll keep them between you, me, and a million purple stars
I've had friends in abundance before, but they often have vanished when my life gets hard. But now it's like "I'm going to come with you to your appointment and make them listen" "I care about the mental load it takes for you to communicate with me, let me lighten the load" "I know it's hard for you to accept affection, lets find a way to work through this together." And that's probably because of my circle is so full of CC and disabled folks who just get it.
Trans butch dyke, maker of things, teller of tales, author of smut. 30s
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