This afternoon a child born from a spark of my own DNA fell asleep with his head on my chest, and for one perfect moment all was right in this fucked-up world.
I told her about how sometimes I can feel my ribs shrinking, how my shoulders curve inward to protect my heart and I have to consciously remind myself to breathe, breathe, breathe.
Anne of Green Gables once said about how happy she was to live in a world with Octobers, and I respectfully disagree.
what’s point of being holy if you’re not going to be happy while you’re at it? Also, why would god make butterflies and puppies and sunrises and nachos if (s)he didn’t care about our happiness?
Yes, there’s a brilliant spark of creative intent at the beginning of all things but also: random chance, bad luck, sunshine, shitloads of human free will, evolution (maybe? don’t judge me), and lots of general shenanigans / fuckery. (how long O Lord?)
I’ve recently been increasingly aware of this design flaw in the system. And by “the system” I mean our whole entire human existence.