where do all of the sad girls go?in this world that requires usto write poems about the people who have their handswrapped around our necks for the very people who havetheir hands wrapped around our necks to recognizethat they indeed have their hands wrapped around ournecks?

to the two men who yelled: “that’s a man in a dress! heyeveryone that’s a man in a dress!” while pointing at meon sixth avenue:i wanted to turn around and point back, shout: “hey everyone that’s an insecure man, that’s an insecureman! that’s an insecure man!

Conformity requires us to minimize our differences for the greater good. We fear that if we don't conform, we will be abandoned, but there is no loneliness like having people only see you after you've erased yourself.

It's like being handed over a scantron sheet and demanded to paint a self-portrait on it. It's possible, of course, but why even bother when a canvas is within our reach? Is it really a choice, when you don't get to select the options you are given to begin with?