“What do you write about?”
“Uh… uhm. *nervous tic* … uh, finding myself, I guess.”
Whatever, I probably would have just sat there in some hotel room smoking and doing god only knows who or what if someone or something hadn’t intervened.
I hated this hellhole clown world prison planet, who doesn’t want to check out?
The faintest , faintest, faintest whisper that got through to me was something about god reaching into the graves we dig for ourselves with our violence and our selfishness and our lies… and digging us out of them over and over again.
The next one was Janet Mock talking about someone who was in a space where they weren’t ever wanted or welcomed, sucking it up and showing all the way up. I bet even she wishes I’d shut up. ๐
Glib comments about “women ruining all things men create” (and its really only funny if you’re from the chatroom) aside, sometimes women save your life.
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