The quiet is really fear.

The quiet is really fear. A friend found this page & I no longer felt safe sharing the beautiful heinous thoughts in my head here. I already feel too much judgement from The World.

And then the silence became another fear: fear that talking about it made it real or more real. Or that it would ruin my Pollyanna Positivity default setting to have to admit the many times a day when the doubt, worry, fear, & anxiety works its way into my mouth like a gag.

This whole titanic mess of a complexity I’ve had going on over here seems like a thick cold yellow Gak-like liquid I am drowning in.

Every time we get a breath some other anthropomorphasized bully sends his boot flying towards my rib cage & knocks that breath back out of me. Of us. I’m not in this hell alone.

And so I decided (not being able to win the larger battles) I’d find smaller ways to sneak joy into our lives. I celebrate every-fucking-holiday. Every holiday. I decorated for Halloween, Autumn, Yule, New Years, Winter, Mardi Gras, Valentine’s, and I’m about to set in on Spring & St Pattys.

I’m keeping myself alfoat with foam cut out decorations from the dollar store.

Most of the time it works.



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