But still. Still bless me anyway. I want more life. I can't help myself, I do. I've lived through such terrible times and there are people who live through much worse. But you see them living anyway. When they're more spirit than body, more sores than skin, when they're burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in the corners of the eyes of their children - they live. Death usually has to take life away. I don't know if that's just the animal. I don't know if it's not braver to die, but I recognize the habit; the addiction to being alive. So we live past hope. If I can find hope anywhere, that's it, that's the best I can do. It's so much not enough. It's so inadequate. But still bless me anyway. I want more life. (Angels in America)

You can call me Possum. I'm less of a person and more of a buzzing hive of dissociative parts fitting together in ever-shifting patterns and combinations, but it's easiest to masquerade as person-shaped in most situations. I'm a queer transgender goth in a wheelchair and I am absolutely batshit insane and I am going to make that everyone's problem.

blah blah

WIP