[cries in gay ass spanish]
Jun. 4th, 2024 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
venusundaeit's pride month and we're so back
disclaimer even for my own fingers, "woman", in this post, is certainly a metaphor for people i perceive as a certain class ad defined by societyhldgkdgk but i'm trying to be romantic so i'm sure i'll get existential about gender another time.
i'm putting my entire pussy into the pride show as though i am dying on july 1st and this is my final legacy. and within that metaphor, the finale of my life would be a mashup of king princess songs about lesbian sex.
all that is to say, don't let the historians ever say i just had Gal Pals once i'm not around, okay.
birds are chirping. the trees are speckled with tiny flowers. i am folliclular as hell right now. and god do i love women.
in an innocent act of potentially dangerous folly, i did just pull a goofy ass cartoon awooga moment staring at this beautiful woman in the grass in my way to a gig. the danger being my head whipping around to continue staring even as i drove past her haha oops.
she was wearing a black satin baby doll dress at 8 in the morning to walk her dog. her hair was dyed pink in patchy, rusty chunks - an image i became used to seeing in the mirror during the first 4 years i began playing around with my own hair.
and i was smitten. her impractical dress and amateur body mod apparently a fast forward key to the silly fantasy part of my brain that let me, for a simple 7 minutes of a car ride - wonder things like what song would remind me of her in two years if we were to have met. what kind of texting style does she have? does she prefer coffee or tea?
and i think of the times my heart feels the tense grip of my fingers around it and i'm forced to bring it back to life by uttering an incantation of "GOD i love women"
i LOVE women.
and i especially love women being bad at makeup.
i love women with noisy footsteps.
i love women when they fumble over their words and exclaim nonsensical and clunky phrases in surprise.
i love women wearing uncomfortable clothes that leave ribbons of lines across her body but that she wears anyway bc of the way it tickles the top of her thighs in her favorite way.
i love women in old clothes with stains of boring and mundane origin.
i love women who are afraid to touch me at first and apologize for nails digging into my skin once she realizes she is safe with me.
i love women crying.
i LOVE women laughing.
i love when they snort and choke and gasp with the joy of that laughter.
i love when women wear impractical clothing that you know makes them feel beautiful under their lovingly and inexpertly applied at-home dye job while they talk to their neighbors and a dog who obviously loves them with all their lil heart sits at their feet in the grass.
and i could analyze why. i could choose to reflect on exactly why any of this means anything to me. and i certainly will bc i can't fucking help that shit.
but for now, the air is warm and full of birdsong and i love women just being people.
disclaimer even for my own fingers, "woman", in this post, is certainly a metaphor for people i perceive as a certain class ad defined by societyhldgkdgk but i'm trying to be romantic so i'm sure i'll get existential about gender another time.
i'm putting my entire pussy into the pride show as though i am dying on july 1st and this is my final legacy. and within that metaphor, the finale of my life would be a mashup of king princess songs about lesbian sex.
all that is to say, don't let the historians ever say i just had Gal Pals once i'm not around, okay.
birds are chirping. the trees are speckled with tiny flowers. i am folliclular as hell right now. and god do i love women.
in an innocent act of potentially dangerous folly, i did just pull a goofy ass cartoon awooga moment staring at this beautiful woman in the grass in my way to a gig. the danger being my head whipping around to continue staring even as i drove past her haha oops.
she was wearing a black satin baby doll dress at 8 in the morning to walk her dog. her hair was dyed pink in patchy, rusty chunks - an image i became used to seeing in the mirror during the first 4 years i began playing around with my own hair.
and i was smitten. her impractical dress and amateur body mod apparently a fast forward key to the silly fantasy part of my brain that let me, for a simple 7 minutes of a car ride - wonder things like what song would remind me of her in two years if we were to have met. what kind of texting style does she have? does she prefer coffee or tea?
and i think of the times my heart feels the tense grip of my fingers around it and i'm forced to bring it back to life by uttering an incantation of "GOD i love women"
i LOVE women.
and i especially love women being bad at makeup.
i love women with noisy footsteps.
i love women when they fumble over their words and exclaim nonsensical and clunky phrases in surprise.
i love women wearing uncomfortable clothes that leave ribbons of lines across her body but that she wears anyway bc of the way it tickles the top of her thighs in her favorite way.
i love women in old clothes with stains of boring and mundane origin.
i love women who are afraid to touch me at first and apologize for nails digging into my skin once she realizes she is safe with me.
i love women crying.
i LOVE women laughing.
i love when they snort and choke and gasp with the joy of that laughter.
i love when women wear impractical clothing that you know makes them feel beautiful under their lovingly and inexpertly applied at-home dye job while they talk to their neighbors and a dog who obviously loves them with all their lil heart sits at their feet in the grass.
and i could analyze why. i could choose to reflect on exactly why any of this means anything to me. and i certainly will bc i can't fucking help that shit.
but for now, the air is warm and full of birdsong and i love women just being people.
