phoebe bridgers and the music that blossomed my queerness (retrospective diary: 2021-2024)
phoebe, lucy, julien, clairo, haim, haley blais, olivia rodrigo, mannequin pussy, and more, including moon signs and tarot draws: art and magic are amazing windows into our true inner selves
phoebe bridgers in prospect park (winter 2021)
i am living in brooklyn where i have almost no friends, lockdown is still chugging along, i teach online so i have insane amounts of free time:
and i spend hours upon hours walking in prospect park listening to phoebe.
phoebeโs music and lyrics give me this sense that i am not in the world anymore.
i am inside of myself: i am me, beneath the fabricated layers, but:
what does that mean?
an icy morning listening to phoebe in brooklyn
(all photos my own)
phoebe bridgers lyrics that steadily destroy me (winter 2021)
jesus christ, iโm so blue all the time
and that's just how i feel
always have and i always will
i always have and always will(phoebe bridgers, โfuneralโ)
whenever i hear this line as i walk through the snow, i face the reality of my past: i have always been depressed and i have routinely contemplated suicide. i have this sense that no matter what i do, i will always be sad. sadness seems intrinsic to my being. what am i sad about? there is this emptiness inside of me, this sense i am not me: but why? i actually hate myself even more for not simply appreciating what i have.
i have this sense i will never find fulfillment, and i hate that, because i love the people in my life, i love the things i have done in my life, i love the books i read and the music i listen to: there is so much in my life that so often makes me happy: yet even then i feel empty, like iโm nothing, and the emptiness is filled with sadness.
and i get this feeling
whenever i feel good
it'll be the last time(phoebe bridgers, โicuโ)
sadness feels like my foundation.
when i feel happy, i know my happiness will just melt into the sad foundation.
i don't wanna be stoned
i don't wanna be stoned anymore
i don't wanna be alone
don't wanna be alone anymore, mmi've got a good feeling
i've got a good feeling
it doesn't happen very often(phoebe bridgers, โdemi mooreโ)
often when iโm walking through the park that winter i am totally stoned.
there are two dozen packs of gummies in my freezer,
and covid is chugging along.
i am high as fuck, listening to phoebe bridgers in the snow
girl music floodgates (2021-2022)
prospect park, brooklyn, winter 2022
i know that if i tell W about these feelings he will simply tell me to go to therapy.
he thinks phoebe is hot (sure, so do i). he thinks phoebeโs music is cool. he thinks the sad girl scene is a new and better version of the shitty emo music from the mid 2000s (which was mostly created by misogynists).
but he analyzes phoebe like a man analyzes phoebe: he focuses less on the emotional content of her art and more on the physicality of her body, voice, music.
sheโs hot, and her music is cool. thatโs the end of it.
so i start texting more with my friend M about phoebe lyrics.
our conversations about music blossom into a golden age in our friendship.
i could be a pretty girl
iโll wear a skirt for you(clairo, โpretty girlโ)
M, with whom i ran a marathon in north carolina, introduces me to more music: julien baker, lucy dacus, boygenius, julia jacklin. over the course of the coming year my soul fans out on its own, spotify my soulโs virtual arena and recommendations pouring in from friends: big thief, beabadoobee, hailey blais, soccer mommy, wet leg, olivia rodrigo, clairo, beach bunny, momma, mxmtoon, hole, taylor swift, snail mail, arlo parks, bully, mazzy star, haim, princess nokia, laura stevenson, raveena, haley heynderickx, courtney barnett, faye websterโฆ. by the end of 2021, i am completely and totally immersed in girl music.
i stop listen to the news; i stop reading the news; i consume dozens of romance novels and every sally rooney book: i am constantly watching romantic telenovelas in spanish.
all the while โ whether through speakers in my home or headphones when i am out and about โ girl music is endlessly streaming into my mind. girl music is streaming into my soul for a solid minimum of twelve hours every single day, and the only time i ever really like i am connected with myself is when i am inside of that vortex.
by the end of 2023 i have listened to over 1,100 hours of phoebe bridgers.
when you cut a hole into my skull
do you hate what you see?
like i do(lucy dacus, boygenius: โsouvenirโ)
i listen to girl music while binge-reading romance novels
phoebe bridgers in detroit (september 2021)
W and i go to see phoebe in detroit and we met up with my friend A.
A is truly herself: she is queer and she seems so happy. i have known her for years but our friendship seems to appear and disappear in three-year cycles. i donโt want to lose her this time. i find myself leaving W repeatedly to go stand in line ordering drinks with A who has a much stronger sense of the meaning beneath the surface of art. plus sheโs cooler than W: A writes romance novels and also fantasy novels.
the show is delayed for a couple hours by a storm. once they let phoebe start playing, the storm is still raging behind her across river in canada. lightning strikes in the backdrop: she later posts a picture of her singing with lighting behind her.
iโm looking at phoebeโs instagram while hanging out with W the next day. i want to tell him how much phoebeโs music means to me, but i know for him she is just an aesthetic. we listen to her all the time but not once do we ever discuss her lyrics.
i show him the lightning picture.
โthatโs fucking sick,โ says W.
and i know thatโs as far as weโll ever get.
lost in the innards of prospect park,
listening to โthis is the endโ by phoebe bridgers
phoebe bridgers lyrics that steadily awaken me (2021 - 2024)
i quickly expand my listening to phoebeโs other work: better oblivion community center, boygenius.
there's flowers in the rubble
the weeds are gonna tumble
i'm lucid but I still can't think
i'm strapped into a corset
climbed into your corvette
i'm thirsty for another drink(phoebe bridgers, better oblivion community center: โdylan thomasโ)
this image of phoebe bridgers in a corset obsesses me: i listen to this song all the time and i imagine her getting into the corvette with her corset on.
but my image of her in a corset is strange, different, also familiar:
this is not a sexual fantasy.
this an aesthetic calling; a summoning; a conjuring: of me.
when i listen to โdylan thomasโ i am steps away from imagining myself being the one wearing the corset and climbing into the corvette.
better oblivion community center is sort of a duet set-up. and when they are singing their duets, and iโm listening to them in my headphones while walking five miles around prospect park, iโm never singing along to conor: iโm only singing along to phoebe.
โsmoke signalsโ (2021 - 2024)
you
you must've been lookin' for me
sendin' smoke signals
pelicans circling
burnin' trash out on the beach(phoebe bridgers, โsmoke signalsโ)
by the end of 2023 i have listened to โsmoke signalsโ over 500 times.
why does this song keep calling to me? the music itself seems to put me in touch with myself. i know the lyrics have some specific meaning for phoebe, based probably on her personal life, but that is not what concerns me. what concerns me is: what do these lyrics mean to me? why did the universe bring this song into my life?
who is looking for me? who am i looking for?
i buried a hatchet, it's comin' up lavender
the future's unwritten, the past is a corridor
i'm at the exit, lookin' back through the hall
you are anonymous, i am a concrete wall(phoebe bridgers, โsmoke signalsโ)
these words stir something inside me to the point that i later get a tattoo of a sheet ghost with lavender behind her. i can envision myself in these words: burying my anger, growing flowers in my soul, looking to the future, heading for the exit.
the exit from what?
phoebeโs music guides me through prospect park for two autumns; all the while i am steadily reincarnating:
i am digging beneath my capricorn exterior;
i am moving the clouds away from the light of my moon sign.
discovering astrology (may 2022)
i don't forgive you
but please don't hold me to it
born under scorpio skies
i wanted to see the world
through your eyes until it happened
then i changed my mind(phoebe bridgers, โkyotoโ)
i always knew i was a capricorn: and i still know iโm a capricorn, at least in the sun. i work like a capricorn: i write like a capricorn, which is to say i write constantly. i set goals and steadily work toward them with the discipline of a capricorn.
i suppose in the name of work i appear to be able to suppress my own emotions, even as they stir constantly beneath the surface of my sometimes austere demeanor. my boss several years ago told me i had such a โsteady hand,โ i was known at work for having virtually no emotions whatsoever (i was constantly terrified of being fired and did my best to hide myself). my emotionless presentation came not from a steady heart but from a steady performance, from steady acting, which covered for deep anxiety:
many of my co-workers thought of me as an unfeeling and logical being.
i told someone at work, โiโm a capricorn.โ
โdoesnโt surprise me one bit,โ she said.
and i have the fundamental fear of a capricorn: which is that i will underperform, fall short of my expectations. this is always a source of my anxiety: discontent with myself, a sense that i am not doing enough, not producing enough, not achieving enough.
within me there swirls a toxic fusion of capricorn and capitalist.
i buy this phoebe t at her show in prospect park, brooklyn
my moon sign is pisces (may 2022)
but capricorn was always missing something and finally i know what:
my moon sign.
i finally have my birth chart:
my moon sign is pisces.
i have such depths inside me beneath the surface of my capricorn work ethic.
i am not a machine: i am a soul. i am not a logical program: i am a swirling storm of crackling light, pleasant rain, and warm winds. i am neptune: i am a being coasting through the darkness at the bottom of the sea: my soul contains the ocean itself.
i am artistic and emotional; i am in touch with my own feelings and the feelings of others; but i do not show this. my pisces aspects remain buried inside.
when i go out in public i am terrified. i do not feel like myself. i am silent, withdrawn, shy, afraid, recoiled. i appear as a robot who hardly speaks, only acts. i hate this. i work and work and work, always in the sun of my capricorn sign, always craving the night but never once daring to step out and stand beneath the moon.
i come across as rude. i come across cold. people laugh at the thought i might be artistic. even i find myself wondering: could my birth chart be mistaken?
could astrology be bullshit?
no, i tell myself, over and over again.
everything is connected: gravity from the most distant stars entangles me right now: i am an expression of the universe itself.
my moon sign is pisces:
and i am the moon.
phoebe bridgers in prospect park (june 2022)
waiting for phoebe to take the stage; muna opens
my friend M and i go to see phoebe in prospect park. M is in brooklyn visiting me from d.c. so i have a friend around for a change! (i do have friends here but i am too afraid to ask them to hang out with me)
we wait in a long line wrapping around the park on the south end. soon we are sitting on the grassy slope listening to muna open. muna singer katie gavin starts talking about how difficult it is to think about your own identity, and i sense a train of thought developing in my mind, which for some reason i avoid.
i've spent way too, too, too many years not knowing what
what i wanted, how to get it, how to live it and now
i'm gonna make up for it all at once
'cause that's, that's just what I wanti want the full effects, i wanna hit it hard
i wanna dance in the middle of a gay bar
ooh oh oh, that's what i want
there's nothing wrong with what I want
yeah, yeah(muna, โwhat i wantโ)
there are queer people all around us being themselves, dancing and singing when phoebe steps on, and my whole soul is on fire when sheโs playing. by now iโve heard all these songs more than two hundred times a piece: i know every word by heart and sometimes, when i leave the room in the middle of a phoebe song, i can still hear every little instrument proceeding in my mind as if the speaker were right by my face: when i step back into the room, the song is just where sheโs singing in my mind.
but i donโt sing really. i whisper-sing. i stand there in my dark flannel and jeans: i still have fairly short hair: i hate my clothes, i hate my hair, and i hate that i wonโt sing.
even so: i am seeing phoebe bridgers in the middle of the park where i have spent the past year and a half relentlessly consuming her music. i know M would understand if i just let it all out: but thereโs also a man with us, and iโm dressed like one.
my soul is erupting when phoebe starts โsmoke signals.โ the sky is dark and i can see phoebe singing: on the other side of the tree branches between me and the stage.
above: phoebe bridgers in prospect park, brooklyn
below: haim at madison square garden
W and i see haim at madison square garden (may 2022)
we buy matching women in music pt. iii shirts
W also buys us matching buffy t-shirts
matching โtrue blueโ tattoos with W? (spring 2023)
i don't want to die
that's a lie
but I'm afraid to get sick
i don't know what that is(phoebe bridgers, boygenius: โrevolution oโ)
i am constantly listening to boygenius in prospect park
i am always myself when i am listening to boygenius
boygenius released a new album this year and i have been listening to them constantly.
and it feels good
to be known so well
i can't hide from you
like i hide from myselfi remember who I am
when i'm with you
your love is tough
your love is tried and true blue(lucy dacus, boygenius: โtrue blueโ)
this song is always haunting me.
my friend W, with whom i went to see phoebe in detroit and to whom iโve never shared a single thought i have about her lyrics, is trying to convince me to get matching boygenius tattoos.
he wants us to get these lyrics: โand it feels good to be known so well.โ
i keep telling him i donโt want lyrics: not my vibe.
but thatโs not actually a position i have, and also itโs not the truth.
the truth is: the idea behind the tattoo rings false.
i look at him and i think, โwe hang out every day, but we are a collection of things.โ
for us, boygenius is a thing: like music is a thing for him. he buys guitar after guitar and hangs them up on his wall, but not once do we discuss how music makes us feel. we talk about music like men talk about sports, comparing the virtues of athletes, constantly debating who is โthe best.โ i am nauseated; i am finished;
and he wants matching โtrue blueโ tattoos, something iโd be more likely to get with M.
i never feel this way with friends like M, with whom iโm constantly texting about sad girl music and lyrics. i hardly ever even see M: we met in college but she is practically an online friend. and ours is a truer connection than is my connection with W, my self-proclaimed โbest friendโ of seventeen years.
suddenly i realize that i donโt know for sure how many of my friends really know me.
that same year, W gets me into idles.
i am my father's son
his shadow weighs a tonne
โฆ..
i don't want to be
your man
your man
i don't want to be
your man
your man(idles, โcolossusโ)
cover for โthe recordโ by boygenius
someone only W could love (2022-2023)
'cause if I didn't have a mean bone in my body
i'd find some other way to cause you pain
i won't bother telling you I'm sorry
for something that I'm gonna do againwhen I could spend the weekend out on a bender
do I get callous or do I stay tender
which of these is worse
and which is better?
dying to myself virtually, a massacre
a character of somebody's invention
a martyr in another passion play
i guess i don't mind losing my conviction
if it's all relative fiction anyway(julien baker, โrelative fictionโ)
emily, i'm sorry i just
make it up as i go along
and i can feel myself becoming
someone only you could want(phoebe bridgers, boygenius: โemily iโm sorryโ)
when i am with W, i feel like i am not myself.
i feel like i must construct myself into someone only he could want.
sometimes i convince myself that this is only because i am anxious and i hate myself and i project that hate onto others. my self-hatred leaves me confused: i never know when my skepticism is valid, i never know when i can and canโt โtrust my own gut,โ the best advice my dad ever gave me.
i want to follow my dadโs advice and trust my gut: this person does not know you.
we start going to more shows together: haim, a few smaller acts.
and i realize:
when i am with him at these shows, i cannot fully experience the art.
when i loosen up, he thinks iโm weird. he communicates: you are a man, you are old.
i am always repressing myself around him, even when it comes to art we share.
i want to tell him: i am not a man and i am not old:
i am a butterfly.
i am a goddess.
listening to phoebe makes me feel that way.
pretending to be satanists, anarchists, nihilists โ and also witches (2022-2024)
but if you seek me out,
iโm the coolest fucking bitch in town(haley blais, โcoolest fucking bitch in townโ)
we are on the floor at a show (well, dear diary, iโll call it the floor: tiny show in a tiny venue: spirit of a floor lol) and i tell him i want to buy this super girly t-shirt.
โdude, youโre a 36 year old man,โ he says, and he just stands there, not singing, not dancing, wishing we had bought seats, not wanting to be on the floor like me:
iโm on the floor, but iโm not on the floor when iโm with him. i might as well be in a seat, and i hate it. my soul whole is screaming in agony on the floor, and iโm just standing there motionless, sipping on a beer, sneaking vape hits to smooth my anxiety.
at every show we go to, there are queer people all around us just being themselves.
but i am with W and W reacts when i get girly.
W does not want me to be like the other people at these shows: W seems to think these other fans just donโt know how to grow up.
when W grows frustrated with my intense depression, he tells me:
โbeing an adult is hard.โ
will you be a satanist with me?
mortgage off your soul to buy your dream
vacation home in florida
the collateral the devil's repossessing from me
trying to score some off-brand ecstasy(julien baker, boygenius: โsatanistโ)
will you be an anarchist with me?
sleep in cars and kill the bourgeoisie
at least until you find out what a fake i am
spray-paint my initials on an atm
i'd burn my cash and smash my old tv(phoebe bridgers, boygenius: โsatanistโ)
W likes to talk about being a satanist.
โsatanist is the song of the fucking year,โ he says.
he is constantly badgering me about how we need to get moving on starting our coven: we like to read tarot by candlelight. he loves the idea of all witchy things.
but i am always unable to tell him the full story behind my thoughts on the cards we draw, just like i would never dare expose my feelings about phoebeโs music to him.
one night we argue about tarot cards. he is reading mine.
โi need to be able to express my feelings about these cards,โ i tell him.
โitโs not about that,โ he says, โthere are technical procedures.โ
he says there is one way to do this: i sit quietly, not saying a word, while he interprets the cards based on charts in his book and then informs me of the interpretation.
even while reading tarot, i cannot express my feelings to him.
we are performing together, i realize. we are pretending to be satanists, anarchists, and nihilists, even witches: then we come to these shows and stand there inertly.
and W, the self-proclaimed โco-high priestessโ of our haphazardly formed coven, tells me when i try to express myself: โdude, youโre a 36 year old man, you cannot do that.โ
i stand beneath this tree at full blossom,
almost every day at the height of springtime,
listening to boygenius and phoebe,
i think: โi am this tree; this tree is meโ
tarot draw: the high priestess (spring 2023)
my cherished buffy poster (spring 2023)
almost every day i draw the high priestess. sometimes i draw the hermit.
i am alone: i am afraid, but i am constantly immersed in art, constantly reading, constantly writing. i am struggling to see beneath the surface of things.
i know the surface is not real, but i do not yet know what lies beneath.
i only use my buffy the vampire slayer deck.
i have a massive buffy poster on my wall.
like me W is obsessed with buffy but we never talk about tara.
tara is the high priestess: for so many months i have felt this affinity for tara.
tara is a witch; tara is willowโs lover; taraโs family taught her that she is a demon.
i sink down into my girl music: this is the means by which i go beneath the surface.
i walk through prospect park while listening to an interview in which phoebe bridgers says she considers herself to be a hedge witch. i wonder: could i be a hedge witch?
tara is the high priestess (from my buffy deck)
boygenius and clairo in queens (june 2023)
clairo is on the stage and i am going pre-supernova
i am on the floor and i am here alone.
clairo is playing first and i am dancing in the rain. the drizzle is pouring down on me: everyone around me is dancing and singing: people look at me and smile.
something has been holding me back from embracing my obsession with clairo.
but nothing is now, and neither is anything when boygenius comes on.
W is not here and i am on the fucking floor.
just six months later, i write the following of the experience:
never in my life, not even as an adolescent, have i had that kind of spiritual experience at a concert. wearing my phoebe bridgers astrology t-shirt and showing off my ghost tattoo (a reference to stranger in the alps), i was on the floor with the teens, hanging out in the back with the elder emos, and i was singing, dancing, screaming along to the lyrics. i sang, swayed, and smiled more at that show than at any show in my life. my phone stayed in my pocket on โdo not disturb,โ and i only looked at the screen three or four times. i didnโt take a single picture.
the performance absorbed me until i was falling in love with the same songs all over again. when lucy dacus was singing โtrue blue,โ my soul disintegrated into little heart emojis that bounced around in my chest. and when phoebe bridgers played โrevolution oโ and โa letter to an old poet,โ i was floating.
the energy, the joy, the love in the crowd for this beautiful music swept me into raptures. the sound of thousands of people singing along to the same songs iโd mostly listened to alone for so many hours made me feel like we were all there to praise, worship, commune. the music, sometimes with queer and satanic undertones, was giving us the kind of meaning that no organized religion ever could. true, at 16 i was baptized in the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost, but boygenius was the holy trinity that made me know what it really means to be born again.
at that show, i adored music more than ever. i was connecting with art in a way i never had before; surges of happiness and love rushed through me relentlessly until i was screeching โI WANNA BE EMACIATEDโ with all the fans around me while the boys (thatโs their group gender) performed โme & my dog.โ
the boys always say they have a โgroup gender.โ
and the boys always make me think, โgender is nothing.โ
but i follow the thought no further: i cannot yet fully see myself, only cracks of light.
before i leave brooklyn, i often stand here listening to phoebe. then i move to michigan and after the winter the feelings are surging. i am blossoming: i cannot stop it. this is a mid-life reincarnation: there is nothing to be done.
an aesthetic calling: new merch (january 2024)
i order this shirt because i am desperate to wear it:
i want to feel like an angel:
i want to feel like a butterfly
i know what i am craving: new merch, right?
i order a pink shirt from the boygenius store:
โalways an angelโ with butterflies and stars fluttering on either side.
itโs so girly and i just love it. i want to wear it. i want people to see me.
W says i canโt wear it. so do some others who take a glance at it.
โdude,โ W says, shaking his head in horror.
โlmfao,โ he texts. โomg.โ
i put my pink shirt in a drawer and i lose track of its location.
sometimes i actually even think, what would phoebe bridgers tell me to do?
and i feel like i kind of know: โtell W to go fuck himself.โ
i want other things, badly: pink hair ties, purple hair clips, womenโs shirts, phoebeโs custom charms, pink boygenius tank tops, purple olivia rodrigo shoes.
โdude,โ says W.
i am holding myself inside with everything i have.
mannequin pussy with W (may 2024)
W loves punk music and he gets me into this band mannequin pussy.
a few months after he convinces me not to wear my boygenius shirt, we go see mannequin pussy together in detroit.
the music is aggressive and high energy.
mannequin pussy is all about defying authority and being authentic.
โfuck your parents,โ screams the singer, marisa dabice. W chuckles uncomfortably.
โfuck the police,โ shouts the bassist, colin regisford. โheh heh,โ says W. โwhoo!โ
iโm wearing my purple beanie and my hair is just flowing in beautiful locks.
a girl looks at me and says, โoh wow he is pretty, maybe i should be talking to him.โ
the girl beside her says, โyes i think you should be.โ
โprettyโ โ the word activates something in me.
i am struggling to contain myself as i stand beside W.
mannequin pussy is playing the song โaching,โ
and i feel the words chilling down my spine:
i was aching with desire
i felt bit of rush (i got to be)
i just wanted to feel human
i was starving for some touch
i got to, i got to, i got to, i got to be freei wanna feel it from the top
so what?
i wanna feel it from the top
i got to, i got to, i got to, i got to be free(mannequin pussy, โachingโ)
โi thought you were going to dance,โ he tells me afterward.
โonly if i can dance in a gay way,โ i want to say.
all week long marisaโs voice blares in my mind:
i got to, i got to, i got to, i got to be free
my heart is thumping every second with marisaโs words.
above: cover of โcharmโ
โcharmโ by clairo (july 2024)
iโd rather be alone than a stranger
(clairo, โnomadโ)
clairoโs new album is out and i can no longer contain myself.
i have found the exit from โsmoke signalsโ now: i have discovered the path through the corridor. no longer do i feel the compulsive need to listen to that song every single day. i can feel the lavender springing up in my soul. i am burying my anger; i am burying my self-hatred; i am falling utterly in love with myself.
i do not need โsmoke signalsโ to be in touch with myself.
i am letting myself come out.
iโm going to be known now.
iโm going to be seen.
iโm going to go supernova.
i don't even try
i don't have to think
with you, there's no pretendingyou know me, you know me
and I just might know you too, know you
come to me readygo dancing
(you make me wanna) try on feminine
(you make me wanna) go buy a new dress
(you make me wanna) slip off a new dress(clairo, โjunaโ)
i start a substack at the beginning of august, โcharmโ playing constantly as i write.
my first paragraph:
when i am feeling angry, i like to stroke my butterflies with my fingertips and i like to feel how the pink one rests upon my chest. my butterflies are all over: dangling from the brightly colored bracelets on my wrists, jingling together as i walk down the street, fluttering freely while i run my hands through my hair.
W is calling me.
W says iโm a 36 year old man.
the man says, โthere are consequences for this!โ
the man says, โyou could lose everything!โ
the man sends me an email reminding me of the constructs which bind me.
i respond:
โi'm a teenage girl in her 30s, and that is exactly how i am going to live.โ
the man never speaks to me again.
cover for โpunisherโ by phoebe bridgers
she could do anything she wants to
she could do whatever she wants to do(phoebe bridgers, โgraceland tooโ)
โletter to an old poetโ
i came prepared for absolution, if you'd only ask
so i take some offense when you say, "no regrets"
i remember it's impossible to pass your test(lucy dacus, boygenius: โcool about itโ)
W and i used to have a pick-of-the-week system for music. this accrued over 50 albums. each week weโd both choose an album โ lots of girl music. we used to sing along to olivia rodrigo together. we tracked our picks over time in a spreadsheet.
after he cuts me out of his life, i delete the entire spreadsheet.
i leave him one final message straight from one of our favorite boygenius songs.
lyrics: โletter to an old poet" (in our deleted spreadsheet)
itโs something a twelve year old girl would do,
and i love that about me.
thank you so much for reading!
Ok I don't mean to be a bitch but FUCK W. He CLEARLY is suppressing his sexuality behind his homophobia.
Also, this was such a wonderful read and I loved the connections with music so much!! Music had the exact same impact on me. It's amazing how something so small can do so much.
Iโm crying ๐ฅฒ you are butterflies and glitter and beautiful ๐ฉทโจ