Here’s some NYC Pride joy, before it all got really shit. Thousands of queer and trans people all gathered in a packed Washington Square park; celebrating the fuck out of each other, loving on each other so hard. Then people started running. Then we heard what sounded like gunshots. A few of them. We ran for our lives. People got trampled on, people were bleeding, crying, screaming. People just kept yelling, “Shooter! There’s a shooter!” I ran to the nearest building and hid in a janitors closet for two hours with 4 strangers cos I lost all my friends in the masses. Turns out some cunt stood in the middle of the park and fired fireworks at people. AT people. Hurt people. I’m grateful it wasn’t a gun, but how fucked is that sentence? This was a scare tactic. And it was successful. It was a completely devastating reminder of just how much queer and trans people in this country are fearing for their lives. How constantly on edge everyone feels. How fucking unsafe this place is. That there are now ‘shooting scares.’ I’d never felt so much euphoria as I did on Sunday. Never felt more myself. I cried tears of belonging. I’ve also never felt so terrified as I did on Sunday. I didn’t know if the people I loved were alive and vis versa. Shit was fucking traumatic. And I’m so fucking tired of this fear that is woven so tightly into the fabric of queer life. I’m so fucking tired of feeling like no joy comes for free, that there’s a catch, that we’ll have to pay for it somehow. Because, more often than not, we do. And it breaks my fucking heart. It breaks my fucking heart.
Here’s some NYC Pride joy, before it all got really shit. Thousands of queer and trans people all gathered in a packed Washington Square park; celebrating the fuck out of each other, loving on each other so hard. Then people started running. Then we heard what sounded like gunshots. A few of them. We ran for our lives. People got trampled on, people were bleeding, crying, screaming. People just kept yelling, “Shooter! There’s a shooter!” I ran to the nearest building and hid in a janitors closet for two hours with 4 strangers cos I lost all my friends in the masses. Turns out some cunt stood in the middle of the park and fired fireworks at people. AT people. Hurt people. I’m grateful it wasn’t a gun, but how fucked is that sentence? This was a scare tactic. And it was successful. It was a completely devastating reminder of just how much queer and trans people in this country are fearing for their lives. How constantly on edge everyone feels. How fucking unsafe this place is. That there are now ‘shooting scares.’ I’d never felt so much euphoria as I did on Sunday. Never felt more myself. I cried tears of belonging. I’ve also never felt so terrified as I did on Sunday. I didn’t know if the people I loved were alive and vis versa. Shit was fucking traumatic. And I’m so fucking tired of this fear that is woven so tightly into the fabric of queer life. I’m so fucking tired of feeling like no joy comes for free, that there’s a catch, that we’ll have to pay for it somehow. Because, more often than not, we do. And it breaks my fucking heart. It breaks my fucking heart.
Here’s some NYC Pride joy, before it all got really shit. Thousands of queer and trans people all gathered in a packed Washington Square park; celebrating the fuck out of each other, loving on each other so hard. Then people started running. Then we heard what sounded like gunshots. A few of them. We ran for our lives. People got trampled on, people were bleeding, crying, screaming. People just kept yelling, “Shooter! There’s a shooter!” I ran to the nearest building and hid in a janitors closet for two hours with 4 strangers cos I lost all my friends in the masses. Turns out some cunt stood in the middle of the park and fired fireworks at people. AT people. Hurt people. I’m grateful it wasn’t a gun, but how fucked is that sentence? This was a scare tactic. And it was successful. It was a completely devastating reminder of just how much queer and trans people in this country are fearing for their lives. How constantly on edge everyone feels. How fucking unsafe this place is. That there are now ‘shooting scares.’ I’d never felt so much euphoria as I did on Sunday. Never felt more myself. I cried tears of belonging. I’ve also never felt so terrified as I did on Sunday. I didn’t know if the people I loved were alive and vis versa. Shit was fucking traumatic. And I’m so fucking tired of this fear that is woven so tightly into the fabric of queer life. I’m so fucking tired of feeling like no joy comes for free, that there’s a catch, that we’ll have to pay for it somehow. Because, more often than not, we do. And it breaks my fucking heart. It breaks my fucking heart.
Here’s some NYC Pride joy, before it all got really shit. Thousands of queer and trans people all gathered in a packed Washington Square park; celebrating the fuck out of each other, loving on each other so hard. Then people started running. Then we heard what sounded like gunshots. A few of them. We ran for our lives. People got trampled on, people were bleeding, crying, screaming. People just kept yelling, “Shooter! There’s a shooter!” I ran to the nearest building and hid in a janitors closet for two hours with 4 strangers cos I lost all my friends in the masses. Turns out some cunt stood in the middle of the park and fired fireworks at people. AT people. Hurt people. I’m grateful it wasn’t a gun, but how fucked is that sentence? This was a scare tactic. And it was successful. It was a completely devastating reminder of just how much queer and trans people in this country are fearing for their lives. How constantly on edge everyone feels. How fucking unsafe this place is. That there are now ‘shooting scares.’ I’d never felt so much euphoria as I did on Sunday. Never felt more myself. I cried tears of belonging. I’ve also never felt so terrified as I did on Sunday. I didn’t know if the people I loved were alive and vis versa. Shit was fucking traumatic. And I’m so fucking tired of this fear that is woven so tightly into the fabric of queer life. I’m so fucking tired of feeling like no joy comes for free, that there’s a catch, that we’ll have to pay for it somehow. Because, more often than not, we do. And it breaks my fucking heart. It breaks my fucking heart.
Here’s some NYC Pride joy, before it all got really shit. Thousands of queer and trans people all gathered in a packed Washington Square park; celebrating the fuck out of each other, loving on each other so hard. Then people started running. Then we heard what sounded like gunshots. A few of them. We ran for our lives. People got trampled on, people were bleeding, crying, screaming. People just kept yelling, “Shooter! There’s a shooter!” I ran to the nearest building and hid in a janitors closet for two hours with 4 strangers cos I lost all my friends in the masses. Turns out some cunt stood in the middle of the park and fired fireworks at people. AT people. Hurt people. I’m grateful it wasn’t a gun, but how fucked is that sentence? This was a scare tactic. And it was successful. It was a completely devastating reminder of just how much queer and trans people in this country are fearing for their lives. How constantly on edge everyone feels. How fucking unsafe this place is. That there are now ‘shooting scares.’ I’d never felt so much euphoria as I did on Sunday. Never felt more myself. I cried tears of belonging. I’ve also never felt so terrified as I did on Sunday. I didn’t know if the people I loved were alive and vis versa. Shit was fucking traumatic. And I’m so fucking tired of this fear that is woven so tightly into the fabric of queer life. I’m so fucking tired of feeling like no joy comes for free, that there’s a catch, that we’ll have to pay for it somehow. Because, more often than not, we do. And it breaks my fucking heart. It breaks my fucking heart.
Here’s some NYC Pride joy, before it all got really shit. Thousands of queer and trans people all gathered in a packed Washington Square park; celebrating the fuck out of each other, loving on each other so hard. Then people started running. Then we heard what sounded like gunshots. A few of them. We ran for our lives. People got trampled on, people were bleeding, crying, screaming. People just kept yelling, “Shooter! There’s a shooter!” I ran to the nearest building and hid in a janitors closet for two hours with 4 strangers cos I lost all my friends in the masses. Turns out some cunt stood in the middle of the park and fired fireworks at people. AT people. Hurt people. I’m grateful it wasn’t a gun, but how fucked is that sentence? This was a scare tactic. And it was successful. It was a completely devastating reminder of just how much queer and trans people in this country are fearing for their lives. How constantly on edge everyone feels. How fucking unsafe this place is. That there are now ‘shooting scares.’ I’d never felt so much euphoria as I did on Sunday. Never felt more myself. I cried tears of belonging. I’ve also never felt so terrified as I did on Sunday. I didn’t know if the people I loved were alive and vis versa. Shit was fucking traumatic. And I’m so fucking tired of this fear that is woven so tightly into the fabric of queer life. I’m so fucking tired of feeling like no joy comes for free, that there’s a catch, that we’ll have to pay for it somehow. Because, more often than not, we do. And it breaks my fucking heart. It breaks my fucking heart.
Here’s some NYC Pride joy, before it all got really shit. Thousands of queer and trans people all gathered in a packed Washington Square park; celebrating the fuck out of each other, loving on each other so hard. Then people started running. Then we heard what sounded like gunshots. A few of them. We ran for our lives. People got trampled on, people were bleeding, crying, screaming. People just kept yelling, “Shooter! There’s a shooter!” I ran to the nearest building and hid in a janitors closet for two hours with 4 strangers cos I lost all my friends in the masses. Turns out some cunt stood in the middle of the park and fired fireworks at people. AT people. Hurt people. I’m grateful it wasn’t a gun, but how fucked is that sentence? This was a scare tactic. And it was successful. It was a completely devastating reminder of just how much queer and trans people in this country are fearing for their lives. How constantly on edge everyone feels. How fucking unsafe this place is. That there are now ‘shooting scares.’ I’d never felt so much euphoria as I did on Sunday. Never felt more myself. I cried tears of belonging. I’ve also never felt so terrified as I did on Sunday. I didn’t know if the people I loved were alive and vis versa. Shit was fucking traumatic. And I’m so fucking tired of this fear that is woven so tightly into the fabric of queer life. I’m so fucking tired of feeling like no joy comes for free, that there’s a catch, that we’ll have to pay for it somehow. Because, more often than not, we do. And it breaks my fucking heart. It breaks my fucking heart.
Here’s some NYC Pride joy, before it all got really shit. Thousands of queer and trans people all gathered in a packed Washington Square park; celebrating the fuck out of each other, loving on each other so hard. Then people started running. Then we heard what sounded like gunshots. A few of them. We ran for our lives. People got trampled on, people were bleeding, crying, screaming. People just kept yelling, “Shooter! There’s a shooter!” I ran to the nearest building and hid in a janitors closet for two hours with 4 strangers cos I lost all my friends in the masses. Turns out some cunt stood in the middle of the park and fired fireworks at people. AT people. Hurt people. I’m grateful it wasn’t a gun, but how fucked is that sentence? This was a scare tactic. And it was successful. It was a completely devastating reminder of just how much queer and trans people in this country are fearing for their lives. How constantly on edge everyone feels. How fucking unsafe this place is. That there are now ‘shooting scares.’ I’d never felt so much euphoria as I did on Sunday. Never felt more myself. I cried tears of belonging. I’ve also never felt so terrified as I did on Sunday. I didn’t know if the people I loved were alive and vis versa. Shit was fucking traumatic. And I’m so fucking tired of this fear that is woven so tightly into the fabric of queer life. I’m so fucking tired of feeling like no joy comes for free, that there’s a catch, that we’ll have to pay for it somehow. Because, more often than not, we do. And it breaks my fucking heart. It breaks my fucking heart.
Here’s some NYC Pride joy, before it all got really shit. Thousands of queer and trans people all gathered in a packed Washington Square park; celebrating the fuck out of each other, loving on each other so hard. Then people started running. Then we heard what sounded like gunshots. A few of them. We ran for our lives. People got trampled on, people were bleeding, crying, screaming. People just kept yelling, “Shooter! There’s a shooter!” I ran to the nearest building and hid in a janitors closet for two hours with 4 strangers cos I lost all my friends in the masses. Turns out some cunt stood in the middle of the park and fired fireworks at people. AT people. Hurt people. I’m grateful it wasn’t a gun, but how fucked is that sentence? This was a scare tactic. And it was successful. It was a completely devastating reminder of just how much queer and trans people in this country are fearing for their lives. How constantly on edge everyone feels. How fucking unsafe this place is. That there are now ‘shooting scares.’ I’d never felt so much euphoria as I did on Sunday. Never felt more myself. I cried tears of belonging. I’ve also never felt so terrified as I did on Sunday. I didn’t know if the people I loved were alive and vis versa. Shit was fucking traumatic. And I’m so fucking tired of this fear that is woven so tightly into the fabric of queer life. I’m so fucking tired of feeling like no joy comes for free, that there’s a catch, that we’ll have to pay for it somehow. Because, more often than not, we do. And it breaks my fucking heart. It breaks my fucking heart.
unbelievably stoked. this one’s for the trans guys n girls n theys 🫀🫀🫀🫀 so much love. @marvelstudios
america you so fruity
america you so fruity
america you so fruity
america you so fruity
america you so fruity
america you so fruity
america you so fruity
america you so fruity
america you so fruity
america you so fruity
🍑🐉🏺
gentle stuff, like rain and home people and clouds kissing and tiny dogs and homemade congee and morning light and poems and veggie gardens and pistachio ice cream
gentle stuff, like rain and home people and clouds kissing and tiny dogs and homemade congee and morning light and poems and veggie gardens and pistachio ice cream
