New day. Sun on my face. Thinking of queer art ideas with nature. Nice thoughts.

Sent off some writing. Feeling accomplished. Nails bare. Taking a little break but feels nice. Excited to try new colours. Damn my nails grew fast though under that paint. 

Umm. Okay so I’m back home after playing Catan and cards and I’m not feeling right and my stomach hurts. Yes the alcohol free beers aren’t great for the belly I know. But I do think it’s also because I didn’t feel comfortable in some situations and I was tense. 

I noticed myself acting “macho.” Wonder if I would’ve been softer if my nails had colour. Ugh I don’t know I just felt like it was conversations back when I was drinking and with “the boys” and talking about “girls.” I got back into that life a bit I think. Saying things I didn’t really mean and talking football and getting competitive with banter and I’m masking the whole time I couldn’t even enjoy the food. I just consumed. 

Catan was pretty fun though. 

The farting not so much. I do sometimes prefer seeing them individually. They do revert to teenage boys together. 

Ugh I also felt so uncomfortable being around drunk Saturday night people too. Mostly boys. And actually feeling a bit glad I didn’t have colour as I didn’t want to stand out to a comment. My purple jacket was enough. Maybe it was getting egged — still shook a little. But yeah seeing these drunk boys stumbling around on the road and tram shouting, kicking things. It does make me think of when I was stumbling around and the things that I was doing, now more aware looking back. 

Elections and politics very much on my mind about young men and their votes and ideologies. What I was thinking politically if anything way back when. And me actually being considered one of the “nicer ones.” The standard is so low. We have to be better. The patriarchy is well and truly real and dominating, and vile. 

Can I look through compassionate eyes here? If I can change so can others. Maybe they were having nice thoughts, some of them I hope. 

Finding it hard to see the best in drunk men. Memories of dad and his friends. Not fondly. So glad I’m sober. Thank you. 

Also the change and acceptance of this normality. The need for people get fucked up on the weekend to get by, live, be somewhat happy. Is this the world we want? It’s what we have. I’ve been there. Numb, suppressed, feeling something of a belonging, fleeting, always around alcohol and drugs. 

Drunk boys

Drunk men

Stumbling

Shouting things into nothingness 

At fellow boys 

A girl.

Seeing more clearly through sober eyes

Not liking what I see

It’s myself.

Not too long ago 

Stumbling

A girl 

“Guess where I’m from?”

Over the last few days I’ve shared these words with Mateusz and Eva and it feels vulnerable as hell. A little more so with Eva as it was in person. But it also felt so right and a very safe space to share, which it absolutely turned out to be. Being in this program and at this school, feeling so grateful. Eva also seemed so excited to hear more about it beforehand which was so nice too. 

Feeling a little lighter, more free. 

It’s okay to be me. 

It’s okay to be attracted to not only women. 

The shame is a little less. 

Thank you. 

Feeling happy. 

Relieved.

It wasn’t true that shame.

It wasn’t true. 

I know you were trying to protect me.

And it was probably needed. 

But now it’s okay to let it go. 

Now it’s Time to create, to share. 

Oh my goodness feeling such a weight 

Has been lifted. 

Fuck.

Was it that heavy?

No wonder my back has been sore.