“i've gotten so fucking bored and sick of the world,” i mused, staring at the ceiling like i could find answers written in braille on the bumps along the chipping paint where it dried when it was still half-dripping. it could be an interstellar moment, perhaps. i wish gravity could talk to me like that. i wish gravity could do my math homework for me, i'll paint my ceiling in a thick coat of angry-teacher-red and lay a graph down. i caught wind of your DIY party, you know. i saw the pictures on facebook. you were surrounded by faces i half-recognize from catholic school, faces of people i can only remember in the context of sweaty halls and briefly glancing to my direction with the look someone holds when they're subconsciously passing judgement. they all know i'm queer, right? do they know you're queer, too? i wasn't invited. i don't know why i should be, but it really felt like there was a person missing in your group photos. i bet there was that one person that couldn't make it.

“i was too big for everything in my sophomore year,” you think i'd say. i probably was. nothing i did in those years were the right size for anything, my half-assed art submissions and my meticulously crafted script annotations when i attempted to direct our noli me tangere play. you knew i'd fail at it. you watched me sink to the floor on opening night with my head in my hands while the advisory teacher tried to hold back her tears. you knew i'd fail.

“god, some catholics are weird,” i thought when i was asked the first time if i was queer. we were in mass. i wore a skirt that touched the floor, with pockets so big i easily smuggled food into the computer laboratory that morning. we were kneeling on the floor, and the entire church was silent. jesus stared down at me, but i knew he wasn't passing any judgements like the lot of them, he merely stared, curious as to how i would proceed. i said, yes, diana, i'm queer. i've been queer since the day i found out what girls and boys were supposed to be. you just nodded, and started praying. the whole church heard me, i think. “fuck this place,” that day i kicked up at the tabernacle just to tie my shoes. i wiped the underside of my feet on the pristine cement walls that held the holy sacramental bread i wondered was just as un-decomposable as fast food items. it stayed the same each day, i'd wager. i got caught desecrating the holy grounds of our mary immaculate church, shoes leaving tracks on the wall. it stayed there even after i left catholic school. a lot of things stick after catholic school, i suppose.

so i decided to dye my hair again, rebleached all of my hair including the roots, and replaced the pink with blue. although some pink parts stayed so... that's how some of my blue hair ended up on the purple side. the bottom half of my head is dyed a vibrant pink and cut into a shorter length so that if i decide to tye my hair up people could go Wow theres some pink under there. anyways i think i did a pretty okay job, it's still a bit messy and looks like it was obviously done at home so i'm too embarrassed to post full pics. yeah.

june has also started, and so pride month has begun. i was talking to my friend about how i lost the energy for this year's pride month, because the idea of celebrating directly after transgender people were brutally murdered in my country irked me greatly. i briefly remembered of that time two years ago when i waltzed into the men's restroom alongside my cis male friend, wondered if he had not accompanied me would i have been assaulted, too. i try not to think about those things. i like attracting attention, especially when i'm walking around a mall in my brightest clothes as i tend to turn people's heads, but each passing month with an ever-increasing onslaught of terrible news maybe that's not a good thing for me anymore.

“i am done feeling like i have no place in this world, i'd carve it out with my bare hands if i had to.” the reality is that queer liberation is a class struggle, and until everyone in the community unanimously agrees with that and actively works along that philosophy, we will never achieve absolute equality. one of the particularly terrible things about ebeng mayor's case was that all the philippine national police had to say on the matter concerned the murderer's consumption of drugs. it's always the fucking drugs. they will say anything just to pin it on drugs.

on a different note, i am making a bit of progress on my neocities website, i'm not really sure what kind of tone i'll try to maintain on this page but maybe i'll just go along however i feel at the moment so perhaps that's why i sound all over the place. anyways here's some music i'll probably want to listen to again later on.

i keep missing the turnip prices in the morning!!!!!! oh well. my house is pretty cute. i just wish i could pay off my debt quickly 8((