Trapped in a cage without any bars. You dont have the key, I’m just not sure I know how to use it. I used to write, I used to draw and read, I used to bleed. I dont want control, dont need control. Just freedom.
Set me free so I dont have to let myself out of this cage built around your emotions.
“If you think being dysfuncted and damaged, strapped to your baggage, dirty, ruined and hurt like critical, cynical, scathing, if you’re lost or have come up missing, scarred and scared (or pretending you aren’t), when you think that’s all you’ve got, it’s not. The sadness you wear around like a trophy is intriguing at most, but it’s miserable, and about as original as a frat boy with a visor cap. So step up.”—Buddy Wakefield (via loverofstories)
“Every time I try to bind my chest and wear my men’s clothes, I wonder what it’s like to be a boy and every time I wear my bra and my dresses, I wonder what it’s like to be a girl.”—genderfork (via genderqueer)