Zero Point

I’m thinking about every friend I’ve had that had a hard pregnancy. So many of you, my own mother included. I’m thinking of all the stories I’ve shared over the years trying to make you understand that what you wanted to destroy would do so much harm to so many. You didn’t care then, you won’t care now. You write all loss and pain off so easily with your god’s will. Must be easy to live in a world you can push responsibility for suffering and pain off onto another over taking any yourself.

I’m tired of trying to create empathy where there is none, trying to create it for me as a person, a woman, a bi/pan person, co-parent of a non-binary gem of a human. I couldn’t make you care about my life, our lives enough to vote differently and what does that mean? What I came to realize is that doesn’t say anything terrible about me, but it sure as shit does all of you. You are no friend, family or loved one of us if you vote to dismantle our lives. You do not love us, do not claim to. You are not my protectors, many of you that should have been never were to start.

I have no will left to try to change you, it’s been burned over and over. You will tell me that you love me while condemning me to a hell I don’t believe in. That I am a good whatever I am to you while your faith dehumanizes me. I no longer care to live within the confines of your hypocrisy. We are loved and we are good, without you. Always were. Always will be.

I see you in ways you probably haven’t even considered, in lights from brightest white to deepest midnight. Given you the grace to learn, to question, to discuss. No more. Fight for us or fuck off.

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