I Am Not My Mother And I Am Not My Father But A Third Worse Thing

Beluru, Karnataka

(pics by me pls don't steal)

MUTUAL AID

I'm doing all I can to escape my abusive home, because my mental and physical health has been at an all time low since December. If my work has ever meant anything to you, please consider donating to a disabled trans queer Bengali butch, if you are able to. I don't really want to talk about my personal life right now, because I'm sick of talking about it honestly and it's been horrific since 2023, but I would like a bit of help very much now, instead of just my shitposts and moodboards blowing up.

my trans poetry book collection

my trans sapphic Bengali story from ko-fi

If Indians have problem with Payp*l, you can donate on gpay: sritamasen1905@oksbi

“we don’t talk. i still dream about you.”

May Sarton, The House by the Sea

started the first day of ramadan crying hello everyone how are you

Radio Romance by Mashrou' Leila

Photo by George Semerdjian

The best of this life is trapped in the fabrics of my friends' couches, in my mothers sheets, in my childhood bedrooms curtains, and in every stitch sewn in my lovers shirts

just going to generally love more in 2025

Having a clean home, a warm bed, and a sense of security is truly the biggest blessing. That is enough to be content especially in the world we live in today. We are rich is ways we don’t realize.