The trans experience happens in soft places and hard, ravaged, gritty neighborhoods of the soul, all of which beg care from you and me.

No beast here, people. Nothing to see but sweetness and light. Move along. Please, move along. I can't keep this up much longer.

Let's make every day a set of days we'll one-day not sing about. Because they won't be past. They'll be present and future.

I have to be honest—you will be battered. Every. Single. Day. For the rest of your life.