Jul. 4, 2025
fragment-3
One lonely toy,
On Christmas morning in the cold,
She didn’t get picked this year.
She keeps her head up against the wind,
Staring through the storefront window at treasured possessions,
Better luck next year.
One lonely toy,
On Christmas morning in the cold,
She didn’t get picked this year.
She keeps her head up against the wind,
Staring through the storefront window at treasured possessions,
Better luck next year.
Historical revisionism bit for a trans girl’s gender…
Going back into her memories.
Editing, pruning. Changing names, tidying up pronouns…
So that they’ve always been right.
It may not have been that way before… But now, it always has been.
The little inkling that something is wrong, amiss, that would otherwise be called instinct?
Now I have their names, their faces, and I love them.