What is good is rarely what wins. And when good does come out on top, you can bet compromises were made. That’s the way of my world at least. The other day in class I was called out for being a cynic, and throughout my life I’ve been uplifted as a ray of light. I guess I’m capable of the change I so crave after all. Like molting or inducing vomiting, I am confident that change is good. It’s scary to know a modern-day werewolf would probably love themselves, their body, and their thirst for blood.
The first time he didn’t stay the night, I didn’t believe him and I was right. This time, I have to believe myself and that’s a daily, delusional act. To stand up for one’s self is beautiful but it takes a fuckton of muscles and it might leave you weak and raw wondering if all that effort was really worth it. I can buy myself flowers even if it sends my account into collections.
What we eat will either heal or murder us. It’s true, and yet sometimes we still don’t know exactly what we’re eating. We’ll find out when we see the effects, and some of those won’t be seen for decades. The internet makes a joke of it, but I study the microplastics. They won’t kill us, but they’ll make us infertile, deaf, and dumb. They’ll do it slowly, but surely. A chronic uncoupling is worse than a quick one, yea?
What we make shows the world what we are made of. I created a place for love, discovery, intimacy, and vulnerability in my life, but it wasn’t welcomed. Maybe I didn’t create what I intended. Maybe something else leached in. Something toxic. Either way, now I need to make something new. Out of love.
