i’ve always thought that the month of november receives an unfair amount of criticism. 

I used to cry a lot when I was younger, whether it was to vent sadness, anger, or […]

imagine, if you will, a town. in this town, high on a hill, is a structure so menacing that children write folk tales about it. it has become a monster of its own. it eats up the town crazies and never lets them out.

Please note. I wrote this article before Lydia Night announced she and Dylan Minnette had split romantically, and this piece was in no way influenced by said events– I have not added to it, and these remain my original thoughts, untainted by this news. It is crucial to respect the privacy of both Dylan Minnette and Lydia Night during this time. 

The cedar-coloured bed belongs against the northern wall. The bed is low, so a strip of white paint is visible between the bamboo mattress and the double windows. Upon examination, one may notice tiny pinpricks dotting the wall, proof of nails once wedged there.

Author’s Note: this is possibly the most vulnerable thing I have ever written on the internet, and I think that’s saying a lot—especially for me. My near-death experiences, relationship drama, and connection with my culture have all been aired for the public to see. But this, this feels scarier. This feels different.

I’ve never been straight, at least in the eyes of others. It feels like my sexuality has never been free. I am just another person unable to break out of the assumptions of sexuality. But I know that my sexuality has changed and I can recognize that for myself. Even if no one else can validate it.

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