After being endlessly complemented for my Johnathan Cheban costume I recollected that feeling of security, not from the compliments but from my own vision. I was as masculine as I was feminine, my spectrum of love and lust as versatile as olive oil (I mean what can’t you do with olive oil). In my car I start to put little pieces of myself together that I noticed, but haven’t been able to fully connect. I love, love. There is a sweetness to it that relays into my own sense of being. I can’t help but be in love with the flowers. Coming back from a Kardashian strip party I sat in my car as Johnathan Cheban thinking about WTF I just heard, saw and felt the past two hours. I sat tearing up cause a revelation had just blossomed in my tiny little non-gender body.



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