#perhaps some

The obvious answer: that my stuff will always be trivial compared to what is being done in the world.

I wish it were an actual comfort, moment by moment, to think we are all just become part of everything else.

Funny that people seldom seem to think

ah, when I die,

part of me will be the filthy slime beneath your feet,

the gunk you scrub off of your hands,

the stench you smell upon the wind,

the sweat-stained cloth of others sins;

isn’t it?

We’re all sunlight and sparkles, ain’t we?

Someone ends up what you scrape off your boot with thoughtless distaste.

No, I meant after death.

…

A midwinter reminder that there are real people behind the words here.

Think twice before you promise to help people with actions or needful things. (Then don’t. Don’t promise.)

Your desire to sprinkle shiny happy pixie dust over people then move on before it even lands isn’t always safe.