on gender identity & sexuality

Recently, gender has been such a recurring topic in my mind. To the point where I think in cycles, realise the paradox in each assumption I make, and come out frustrated. On one hand I love the dichotomy between feminine and masculine, what each represents and how some days I feel like embodying one more than the other. Some days I want to be bright, impulsive, explosive while other days I choose sensuality and nurturing and reflective energies to embody. I love to hop between these realms which have been encapsulated in human forms: “feminine” and “masculine”. It feels like a game. However, at the same time, I see the uselessness to have to group characteristics and attitudes into two categories. Why do we do this? By doing this we are defining what we cannot be once we state that we belong to one label and not the other. Isn’t it something in excess? An unnecessary part to add to our identity, and an unnecessary stress and struggle. Removing the label, sometimes, I feel like I can breathe deeper and create myself better. The clay in my hands no longer needs a cut-out, and I feel myself expand. I never really realised this was a cage until I saw the metal columns. When I don’t stick a name to my “gender”, it’s as if gender didn’t exist, and it was just me, this human, being itself in this world, surrounded by other humans trying to also reach their ideals of themselves. I don’t need to announce to the world that I am only one category of gender, because I don’t want to exclusively identify only with a certain set of principles, ideals, expectations. I am not feeding into this concept by society, I personally reject it. Saying my gender is female or male, I’m left with an inner question mark, where I’d like to not even stand in the middle, but completely out of the spectrum. This human body, made out of flesh cells, proteins and all, is simply my outer manifestation, but I identify with my creative essence which is boundless, nameless, ever changing. And the same with sexuality- in my reality, it will not exist. It is unecessary, and I will never know completely that my whole life I will only be attracted to a certain “gender”- for that also is just a concept. It’s all just mind play things. I will fall for who I fall for.

However, I still do understand where these labels come from. In order for us to feel like we belong, for us to create amazing communities, for us to bond with people like us, and for convenience. Sometimes we also feel safe once we give ourself a label, we feel like we know ourselves a little bit better. You are free to choose whichever label you like, or create one yourself. I think that is a beautiful human process. As for me, I’ll stay on the side-lines, a little lump of clay that never fully hardens. I don’t know who the fuck I am, and I’m great with that- in fact, I enjoy it. I enjoy this constant evolution without the strings of societal concepts. It allows me to be whatever or whoever I want. I simply Am. Beyond words and forms, I am. And I am here to create and love.

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Pixelated

You’re musical miles

away.

I listen to your

monochrome

mixtape,

the songs are vivid

yet somehow pixelated,

blurry versions of us,

balancing between

accurate and inaccurate,

between a wall of

silicon…

 

Actually

not a wall,

but rather a featherlight river between

us. Untouchable.

Flowing electromagnetism,

quartz connections,

optic fluctuations that

determine connected

between offline,

sometimes I just need to

check that you’re

still alive,

existing three minutes ago.

I’ll take a shattered breath,

 

for the past

seemed all too good for me,

a walkable garden of eden

has been nurtured:

you were the sun that made the

flowers bloom, and I was

the moon that gave the world

rest. Our magic worked perfectly

in purple, palpable darkness

and dawn.

 

But in the end, we picked

different apples,

our toes were then

banished from

the garden of Eden-

Adam and Eve, fell on different

ends of the earth.

 

Now we live in a world of new

equations,

new robotics:

three typing dots equate to

three faint heartbeats,

the ring of a phone

equates to her calling

my name from across the bed.

 

Yet,

her smile

her voice

her words

remain the same,

lips and gaze still soft like

braiding hair underwater.

Smile still growing symmetrical

flowers in my chest, all the same.

It’s all just some tiptoes away,

this world won’t close,

it’s just a nose away,

in the waiting room

 

and while Adam and Eve

scavenge around earth,

charged with terror and love,

the garden grows of immense dimensions,

now a pool of vibrant haze,

flowers of immeasurable blaze

and with time,

there, they shall reunite,

taller and brighter,

and cross eternity again.