SEASON 3 PAM BEESLEY

they should invent a doctor that treats illnesses

pretty sexy of me to keep going despite each day being more unbearable than the last

[ Text ID: When God demanded light, / he didn’t banish darkness. / Instead he invented / ebony and crows / and that small mole / on your left cheekbone. ] 

i hate you private jets i hate you bitcoin i hate you cars that go 200 mph i hate you golf parks i hate you yachts i hate you huge mansions with a pool i hate you luxery resorts i hate you exessive wealth causally killing the planet and using up ressources we all need

imagine the most meanspirited, unlikeable, rude, bitter, self centered, negative person you can think of. not a rapist, not a murderer, not an abuser. just a charmless, tactless, dyed in the wool asshole you wouldn't want to spend two seconds with. now assume they get sick, not with the flu, but with a long term, serious illness that limits their ability to provide for themself. a society in which that person is left to die alone because nobody likes them on a personal level is a failed society.

and the thing is, no matter how likeable or charming or cute you are, peoples' patience runs out. the friends who drop everything to rush you to the ER the first time you shit blood tell you to stop being so tmi the fourteenth time. people might give you a couch to crash on the first week after your shitty ex kicks you out, but by week eight, you better have another place to stay. people run out of time, patience, money, compassion, energy. there needs to be an impersonal option, a real safety net that isn't going to dump you when you become inconvenient

pretty sexy of me to keep going despite each day being more unbearable than the last