If it’s convenient to love you, you’re lying to someone about who you are or what you need.

We’re not broken. We’re not in the wrong bodies. We’re not inadequate. We’re not lesser. We’re not unwanted. We’re not fraudulent. We’re not undesirable. That’s all just a set of lies we tell to soothe the experience of the prisons we put ourselves in.

What you call 'contradiction' I call 'complement'.

All I’m saying is that I want you to be happy. I don’t care how it happens, or what it takes to facilitate it. I don’t care if it happens with me or without me. I don’t care if you use me to get there, or if I’m entirely irrelevant to your process. None of me is attached to how your happiness happens; I care only that it does.

THIS IS WHAT A MAN LOOKS LIKE. HE DOES NOT HAVE TO BE AESTHETICALLY PLEASING; HE DOES NOT HAVE TO BE MUSCULAR; HE DESERVES NOT TO BE PHOTOSHOPPED. HE IS HUMAN, AND HE HAS BLEMISHES. HERE HE STANDS, VISIBLE. HE SEES YOU ALL, COUNTLESS INVISIBLE OTHERS LIKE HIM. THIS BODY IS ACCEPTABLE — PUBESCENT, AWKWARD, MARRED. YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE INVISIBLE. WE ARE ALL GOOD ENOUGH. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH OUR BODIES.

My body is a political battlefield.
It is a place of war, of death and suffering, of triumph and victory, of damage and repair, of blood and tears and sweat.
It is a place where memories go to find purpose for their existence.
It is a place where humans cast all inhibitions aside to discover what exists at their very core.
It is a place of growth wearing a mask of destruction.
It is a challenge, not for the faint of heart, beckoning us to face it with eyes wide open.

The only war is within. When you are ready to fight it, the field awaits.