Stay Golden

“It astonishes me sometimes—no, often—how every person I get to know—everyone, regardless of everything, by which I mean everything—lives with some profound personal sorrow. Brother addicted. Mother murdered. Dad died in surgery. Rejected by their family. Cancer came back. Evicted. Fetus not okay. Everyone, regardless, always, of everything. Not to mention the existential sorrow we all might be afflicted with, which is that we, and what we love, will soon be annihilated. Which sounds more dramatic than it might. Let me just say dead. Is this, sorrow, of which our impending being no more might be the foundation, the great wilderness? Is sorrow the true wild? And if it is—and if we join them—your wild to mine—what’s that? For joining, too, is a kind of annihilation. What if we joined our sorrows, I’m saying. I’m saying: What if that is joy?”

The idea of someone else not being able to keep their hands off my body is literally intoxicating

“I’m with you. No matter what else you have in your head I’m with you and I love you.”

I keep giving because I know what it’s like to feel like you have nothing. I know what it feels like to be a in a room and think nobody listened to the joke or thing you said. I know what it’s like to not be asked if you need anything today. I know what it’s like to be in an embarrassing moment where you just wish someone was there to make you laugh about it. I know what it’s like to feel ashamed to ask for some help, when everyone says “you’ll be fine dude!”