zzzzz.

it’s getting harder to pretend..

It would be a shame if the protesters noted that plainclothes cops can be identified a number of ways, such as wearing steel-toed boots; an armband or wristband of a particular color; driving white, black, or dark blue cars with concealed lights; or having the outline of cuffs visible in the back pocket or the bumps of an armor vest’s shoulder straps under their shirt.

It would be a shame if the protesters began making their signs out of inch-thick plywood to stop rubber bullets, forming a tight shield wall to prevent police from singling out and mobbing individual protesters. It would be a shame if the people behind the shield wall held up umbrellas so that tear gas canisters fired over the heads of the front line will be bounced away. It would be a shame if protesters began constructing improvised armor vests out of duct tape, hardback books, and ceramic tiles.

It would be a shame if protesters started wearing safety glasses, hard hats, respirators, and gardening gloves, all of which can be found at the same hardware stores as the plywood. It would be a shame if they started using traffic cones (the kind without the hole in the top) upside-down buckets, or other improvised lids to contain tear gas by placing them over the canisters.

It would be a shame if protesters learned that police scanners are legal to own in the US, allowing them to learn where police are moving and what routes they intend to take. It would be a shame if they discovered that these scanners can be used to send as well as receive, allowing them to flood the scanner frequencies with noise.

Got to the interview, and it turned out they didn’t want a barista, they wanted someone to spearhead their new cafe, as the cafe that had been in the store before didn’t want to resign their lease with the bookshop. They wanted to put their own cafe in its place, all new menus etc. They needed someone experienced to train their new staff, to handle window displays, to communicate with the bookstore owners about changes and needs of the cafe, to be able to handle inventory and ordering.

Okay, I had basically done most of that stuff at my previous job. I asked if cafe positions would also be required/trained to work the bookstore. They would. They would be required to run the book sale counter, stock and reshelf books, and help bookshop customers find things. They would also–despite having an outside cleaning company–have to help maintain bathroom cleanliness. They’d have to take out trash, and clean spills, and vacuum.  Wow, that’s a lot, I said. Is this a manager’s position, then?

~Striped Roses~

It is so strange to compare. My mom was already holding my brother at this point in her life. I am barely holding on at all.

I have no money and no prospects. I don't even know what the future vaguely looks like - only that it probably has student debt - and no, I haven't picked up a new hobby yet. I am just barely surviving. I am writing myself letters, sometimes, to remind myself where I am and why everything has stalled in place. It still feels fake.

For my entire life, capitalism put me on a clock. I am a failure to my past self - no agent for my book, no law school, no awaiting marriage. I still carry that anxiety with me, even knowing it's unhelpful. It's what I've been taught, you know. That I should always be moving, like a shark; and like a shark, if I die for something that's society's fault... Well, that's how things work. Don't look at the water. Tuck yourself against the wind. Eat bigger fish or be eaten.

Sit in your ratty apartment you share with 9 other people. Cry into your adult hands because you feel both like a child and too-old. Watch people make coming-of-age movies about 18 year olds. There aren't any for this generation - in fact, we have started setting them in the past. Before all this shit happened.

money? yeah, you’re gonna spend it all on useless things like excessive amounts of food and clothes in hope of making yourself feel better. then you’ll regret it five minutes later

 you hate yet love everyone and everything. hate. love. hate. love. it’s a never ending, exhausting cycle of intense emotions. there’s no in between

someone doesn’t respond to your message in ten minutes? it’s time to make dramatic assumptions. do they suddenly hate you? are they dead? 

you’re slightly inconvenienced? it’s time to commit suicide

all your relationships fail and you just can’t seem to figure out why

 you feel like everyone is the same. you see the same pattern over and over again in your relationships and your friends

you feel happy for once? well guess what, in about seven minutes you’ll feel like throwing yourself into traffic because Johnny didn’t want to share his pencil with you

nothing is worse than the overbearing feeling of emptiness that follows you daily and haunts you like a ghost

you’re constantly angry. just the idea of someone breathing in your vicinity is infuriating 

baths? did you mean: self-harm hours? 

everyone is against you including yourself

who is that in the mirror? is that me? Why do I look like that? I can’t recognize myself

 i’m sorry, what did you say? repeat yourself again. and again. sorry, i didn’t hear you. again. repeat yourself for the fifth time, i wasn’t paying attention i guess

you’re useless unless you’re perfect

therapy? no

 oh, is that a character I relate to? let me obsess over them for the next nine months

 you’re the most evil and horrible person you know, yet simultaneously the most pure and naïve person you know

you feel like the devil when you say no to someone

how about I split on my best friend for the eighth time today for absolutely no reason!

am I abusive? am I like my abusers?

 they said something that seemed weird to me… are they going to leave me? Is this the end? Is this all there is? Should I leave them? Maybe I’ll just disappear

you hardly remember anything from before the age of 10

nothing is real. we’re all going to die. nothing matters.

DONT LET ME DIE HERE