Because, despite being (indirectly) told that we are an unethical-trash-person and not-an-artist, I'm just gonna keep doing me, way out in opens (like all good+honest ppl) in all contrived presentation and performativity (like all hypocritical+fake ppl). We thinking. We figuring. Because, the idea that I am the type of person who is just going to chill on estranged-and-self-righteous-abuse is to categorically under-evaluate we, and is just false, like most emotional drivers barreling at me. Super lately. Bleeding like help-me-this-isnt-the-70s-nor-80s-nor-90s, we feminist, but better read in queer.er theories. Make we new. Make own new, but someone will try to rip it from you and bastardize it, and remove its definition from your control, I've never seen Survivor (sounds pretty fucking dramatic, though. awesome), but, whatever, I like how ridiculous it is: Reality Artist.
*a picture of that meme: when you hurt my feelings, it makes me stronger*
*I wonder if anyone fears me? If so, that would be both cool and sad*
No comments:
Post a Comment