- “have you ever..”
- “would you rather..”
- this or that
- personal questions
- awkward questions
- tmi questions
- random questions.
- random things you want to tell me.
- anonymous questions of any nature.
do this shit
- anything you’re curious about.
I’ll give you hugs…
There was little he could do. He would never be that person, or any other. He was doomed to an existence of being only himself. And sometimes that just wasn’t good enough… He couldn’t escape any of it…. So he stared out at the blank pavement ahead of him, only riddled with the scarce weed or plant that was struggling to keep its head above rolling black stone. He shook. The heat was tepid and sticky as he sang, forcing his breath past his lips and causing his lungs to struggle to regain themselves. His head spun and he kept singing. They weren’t his words… they were someone else’s. Someone else’s voice and ideas and pain… but he wasn’t good enough to put his own into words… or speak them past his lips. He wasn’t strong enough to admit that he didn’t want to be himself anymore.. He wanted to be someone who knew what was stable and what was not, enough to compare the two things in real perspective. He wanted to be someone correct and desirable…. No, as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tightly around his torso, he imagined himself someplace else… that the sprawling black before him was filled with writing bodies, their dirty hands outstretched towards him. He imagined that his heart ached just enough so that his brain could explain the hurt he felt… that they were all there, thrashing and squirming in response to what he knew was so real…Things they wished they could put into words… His voice trembled and his head felt light… he hadn’t sung with such passion in so long… he forgot how much it hurt his head. “Sono toki made boku wo matte ite keredo ima wa ano oka ni wa mou.…” He slipped from the great concrete block that he had so often before pretended was someplace other than an abandoned parking lot and sat. The whole world before him stood still. Not a bird, not a bug… nothing moved. The power lines tore holes through the sky above him and for a moment, all seemed to stop. He imagined standing there, singing like that, for the rest of his life… never moving, never swaying from what he felt so deeply… the smell of rot caught him and he shut his eyes. What if he were to stand there, slowly decaying… whispering out things he wished were his own? It wouldn’t do to dwell on things you couldn’t change, he remembered….it wouldn’t do at all.
“So it’s a boy, right?” a neighbour calls out as Kathy Witterick walks by, her four month old baby, Storm, strapped to her chest in a carrier.
Each week the woman asks the same question about the baby with the squishy cheeks and feathery blond hair.
Witterick smiles, opens her arms wide, comments on the sunny spring day, and keeps walking.
She’s used to it. The neighbours know Witterick and her husband, David Stocker, are raising a genderless baby. But they don’t pretend to understand it.
While there’s nothing ambiguous about Storm’s genitalia, they aren’t telling anyone whether their third child is a boy or a girl.
The only people who know are Storm’s brothers, Jazz, 5, and Kio, 2, a close family friend and the two midwives who helped deliver the baby in a birthing pool at their Toronto home on New Year’s Day.
“When the baby comes out, even the people who love you the most and know you so intimately, the first question they ask is, ‘Is it a girl or a boy?’” says Witterick, bouncing Storm, dressed in a red-fleece jumper, on her lap at the kitchen table.
“If you really want to get to know someone, you don’t ask what’s between their legs,” says Stocker.
When Storm was born, the couple sent an email to friends and family: “We’ve decided not to share Storm’s sex for now — a tribute to freedom and choice in place of limitation, a stand up to what the world could become in Storm’s lifetime (a more progressive place? …).”
I’m a 27 year old married woman who currently works as a photographer/graphic designer at an art studio. Yes, I found employment. No, I am not flipping burgers. And no, I will never regret my body modifications. In fact, I plan to get more.
I am a 21 year old artist. I have had many jobs. I have my hands tattooed, my face pierced and my ears stretched to over an inch and a half. I have been modding myself for almost a decade and I dont regret anything I’ve done and plan to get more.