Why I almost defriended everyone who had an HRC logo as their profile photo this week
It’s becoming increasingly clear to me that, though I didn’t think about this at the time, I probably started a blog because I need somewhere to vent my boundless rage that is not random people’s Facebook walls. I mean, one thing among the many thousands of things that are guaranteed to raise my blood pressure is when folks get all “the internet isn’t real, and it’s not a viable platform for communication,” but also like, Facebook fights are dumb, I’m supposed to be an adult now.
So here’s the thing that got me all het up this week: gay marriage.
Specifically, these goddamn things:
Dear New Ex-Best Friend
Just checking in, to see if you’re alive. I’m breathing. I miss you. I feel us steadily growing apart, and I hate it to my core. But it’s time. I’ll come back to visit you from time to time, maybe even keep up 2-3 days in a row. Things will begin to feel normal again. You’ll start to be interested in me, and I’ll be really interested in you. But the feeling won’t be the same. I’ll probably share a new song with you. Or a dope poem. Or a piece of art that caught my eye. We’ll do show and tell, and share a few laughs. 20 minutes will pass, and something else will grab one of our’s attention, and one of us will have to go—on with our new life. Until the next time I feel like something is missing. And I’ll hear that song, or read that poem. Someone else will re-blog that awesome piece of art. And instantly I’ll think of you. I’ll visit you again. Write you a message just to check in, to see if you’re alive. Then I’ll sigh and exhale.
This song bumping at the skating rink tho »»»
School for black civil rights activists; young girl being trained to not react to smoke blown in her face, 1960 by Eve Arnold