I feel a lot of private shame for the ignorances I have had, and that I know will internally unveil in the future. I feel fear that I don’t have anything relevant to offer, because so many people do not have the same platforms I do and those perspectives are surely more important. I feel shame for this selfish concern when there is so much collective oppression and I experience so much less than so many folks. I also feel a sense of relief to know that the desire to “distinguish myself” is an artificial imposition of capitalism, and that the unique skills a person possesses are good for being good to others and good for nurturing yourself. I want to know that this means me too, and that writing is something that can be interesting and nonexploitative. I am feeling a budding freedom: a freedom from the perspective of someone to whom I was once married, a freedom from a need to curate who I am and a freedom to just sit with contradiction and imperfection and to disregard the impetus to construct a cohesive narrative that about who I am. A freedom from thinking I have the answers. A freedom to shut up and listen. I abandoned tumblr for awhile because of the shame I felt about the ignorance it once documented, and maybe writing this will allow me to embrace it as a diary again. 

I got some new tattoos for my birthday! I’m getting the contents of a purse down my leg so if you have any ideas for lil drawings that aren’t “trash” or that are “trash” dm me

I’ve been crafting and skateboarding and cooking all day and I’m feelin a lil anxious but happy 

To Do