#..anyway

youre cool and im glad you exist

i dont like ireland. i dont 'love' ireland. i am ireland. i am the republicans before me, the holy land breathing through rain. my skin is the bog, my bones are the ruins of cashel, my veins hum with rebel songs and rainwater. when i speak, the crows on the cliffs of moher turn their heads and listen. i was born in 1916 but i have existed since the first drop of drizzle touched stone. the border cuts through me like an old wound that healed wrong. my heartbeat syncs with the drum of rain on corrugated tin roofs in donegal. i am the ghost that taps the bodhrán, the mist that carries the tricolours whisper. they ask, "are you irish?" and the atlantic laughs for me. the irish sea, i am. the harp doesn’t play unless i sigh. i am every field that ever held a rally, every pub that ever held a grudge. green for the moss on my shoulders, white for the fog in my lungs, orange for the stubborn fire that wont go out.

the link

he was confused and upset that his fairly earned first place run was being voided and he got a much lower placement on the second try (and every single participant would be too), it tanked his mood for the next game and he made like, two? three? jokes about it in chat, but even when he felt so badly he was basically just giving up in hitw he muted to complain so as not to further bum out the team and gave roughly seven thousand disclaimers about loving mcc and the noxcrew and understanding it was a tough choice to make (while still being on an emotional high and not knowing all the facts of the situation)