may our homesickness for the kinder, idyllic, illusive world that we used to know our way around like the palm of our hand cradle us and offer us a field guide for exactly how to shield those who are more innocent than we are until their time inevitably comes. may we not be the ones to steal the joy from those who have not yet learned to grasp it tightly

i feel a bit too weightless these days. like i could float away and no one would pull me back down. i'd much prefer to feel crushed. at least that way i'd know my feet are still on the ground.

I’m genuinely about to start crying about the fact that the version of Wilbur Robinson that helped movie Lewis no longer exists after Lewis wakes up Goob at the baseball game

and there will be a day when we are safe again. when we learn the way it feels to have a body, when we can recognize our hunger cues, when we feel better after we cry. and when we reach that point, our future will be waiting for us, perhaps in a waiting room, sitting on the couch, perhaps standing in the doorway with her hand outstretched, perhaps standing right behind us, tapping us on the shoulder. and she will laugh with us, in giddy joy, and say, “i knew you’d get here! i’ve been so excited to meet you”

may our apathy never settle in our hearts long enough to put its clothes on our hangers.

i can carry my resentment like a boulder on my back, but i can only carry it so far before the erosion begins - either of me, or of it - but one of us will continue to be chipped away until i set it down