i

feel as if i have been a hermit, a recluse. like i have lost all of my backbone. and the injustices and the racism make me sick with rage with a desperate hopelessness in my frantic struggle in HOW DO WE MAKE THIS STOP and it’s on a repeat loop in my head and of course it’s grief on pre-existing grief and holy shit it’s terrible and i get scared and i have these frantic ideas of grabbing my mother and heading to mexico where we can live in an apartment where i could just write and draw all day and she could walk to the plaza and eat like she did when she was eighteen, where she can relive all of her youth where she met my father and we’ll be safe, i think.  and of course the irony of it all is not lost on me but also i think of all the people here who don’t have that choice and how we have to stay for them. we have to be here to stand up for them, to speak out against this and to give our time and money where we can. and i have to remember to stop obsessing on how do we make this stop, but rather how can i help? where am i needed?  what can i do? and ideally it’s all the same but i think in my brain “how do we make this stop” seems like too big of a question and i just freeze. so here i am, just trying to thaw out so i can be of use. 

l, js