I saw an article the other day about how loneliness is as bad for you as cigarettes or something. I don’t smoke much these days, but I’m terribly lonely — and have been for years.
We were supposed to change the world — a weird kind of extraordinary was defined by Gothard’s lists. When that’s your normal,the message hammered into you is just ‘You’re not good enough.’
This is mostly written to myself, as a reminder that the things I usually do are not the things that make me happy. I’m trying to change that.
I feel the soil of our planet growing thinner. It’s becoming more difficult to find space where we can send our roots down deep, for strength and water and life. Do you know what this feels like?
It seemed like a good time to carve these words onto my chest. I have a feeling I’ll need them close by in the days ahead.
Literally just thirteen screenshots of stuff I texted to people this year, presented in no particular order for your amusement and delight.
did you think this wouldn’t happen? or did you think you could vote for a man who consistently appealed to hatred, xenophobia, and fear mongering and then wash your hands of the results?