Peeling skin

I love girls who stand up for themselves. I think I might be one, and I might just love myself for it. A little bit.

Imagine an apple. Imagine it's shiny taut dappled pink and red skin. Imagine that the flesh isn't floury and isn't tart - but sweet, crunchy, juicy. I think you might be salivating. 

Stop.

Humans have an innate way of twisting the universe to fit a human world view, to the point where we think that apples are for eating. The function of apples is to make more apples. We throw away apple seeds. What else do we throw away?

In the dark heart of apples are tiny magic stones. I am a tiny stone with magic properties right at the core, so when others confuse me for food it can be upsetting, disappointing, confusing, aggravating. A lot of people when they look at you see apple skin. Some people look through you and see the silent weight of potential. 

The outer part of me is a bit queer, in the homosexual way. It's a disgusting feeling having your skin peeled and flayed and devoured and your core thrown away by your family. My partner is one of those girls I love because she stands up for herself. And that's really hard to do when other people have misjudged your preferences in this material world as being the most defining aspect of your being, because the opinions of others - regardless of how self determined we are - shape us and can convince us.

Here is an invitation to all the people who have, are currently, and will at some point dispose of the innermost part of me whilst using my outer self to feed your ideas; to acknowledge and disregard the phenomena that is my sexuality because when you get distracted by that, you call me a "human doing". You reduce me to my actions.

Instead, call me a "human being", a thing that exists on a plane higher than mere action and decision.