HAZARD 🏳️‍⚧️♿ Profile picture
Fidgety artist with a penchant for sweets, sparkles, and pink. ❀ SJW, Chaotic Good, Comica, Gamer, Queer, Trans, Disabled, Autistic, ISFP, They/Them ♡
Jul 15, 2018 • 8 tweets • 2 min read
Lying is so unreal to me. Why would you purposefully say something you know isn't true? I understand mistakes. I erroneously say things that are not true because at the time my extent of knowledge does not reveal otherwise. Intentionally spreading misinformation causes confusion! If anyone has some reading recommendations for me on why people lie, or do dishonest things like cheating, stealing, and sneakily killing, I'd appreciate. It's been decades and I still don't understand why people want to cause problems for themselves and others. It lacks honor!
May 18, 2018 • 5 tweets • 2 min read
I think a lot about how I'm Ojibwe, but a mix who looks little like the rest of my Native family. My eyes are blue, my skin is pale, and my natural hair is ashen blonde. I have my mother's high cheekbones and wide forehead and long limbs and feet meant for climbing mountainsides. Yet when I go to pow wows, members of my extended family look at me sideways and wonder who the pale faced stranger is. I feel as if I'm considered an intruder among my own people. I share the same blood, but not the same appearance. My blood is but a drop of red in clear waters.
May 11, 2018 • 7 tweets • 3 min read
#Suicidal? Remember. There's always time to die.
If you want to die, go do something you love now.
There will be time for death. Make time for love. ♡

Life is hard. It gets better. It gets worse. Wheel turns.
Find what makes you happy while you have this time.
Death will wait. #reasonstolive Sharing ideas and experiences. Reading new worlds. Writing emotion. Drawing imagination. Vivid color. Rainbows through glass. Light sparkling on water. Dancing in moonlight. Climbing trees. Sleeping in a bed. Soft textures. Flower petals. Veins in leaves and skin.
May 8, 2018 • 14 tweets • 4 min read
Home is where the heart is. I remember when my home was a person and a handful of desperately clenched ideas. I had lost everything that felt like me, except for art, adventure, and a stranger who convinced me to stay atop a bridge. Art became my reason to live, but to be... (1) ...alive, you need a home. My home was transient. I was a freshman at #PNCA when I survived sexual assault. After months of secrecy and unhealthy self coping, I told my mum how I had been raped. I had been a virgin by firm choice, with truly zero inclination to have sex... (2)