Tirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrb

Next is good girl

Then I’m so proud of you

Then, yes we can cuddle

Then it’s okay you don’t scare me

Well as normal as a day in the life of an Atlanta pedestrian can be, juxtapoxistion, maybe, take that as you will.

When I say “life” I mean, race, gender, and environment, the subjective jelly inside of our donut which dictates our flavour.

I’m kinda like popmerknickle

There’s an idea that the “jelly” of life is separate from the donut, and that’s so fatal to the causation of real trauma people experience everyday. You can’t define your life’s experience with a thesaurus no matter how hard you try to in your tinder profile. In the same way this thiny veiled film of outwards perception doesn't begin to summarise the joy of taste that is you.

The sanctity of your flavour must be kept sacred babe.

However, we still try to define life’s experiences, under hegemony right. This is where we get theory from, this is where we get nuanced subjective experience in the framework. Metaphorically speaking, the social relations you make in your day to day life, the act of caring for yourself or others, the complacency of normalcy you partake in whatever way defines your act of “life”.

It’s important to ask what our sense of “normalcy” within community contributes to. I’m under the impression that we’re all flowers, one of my friends is a tulips that sparkles blue, one of my friends is a dazzling yellow chrisanthemum, I’m a cactus.

The way we water each other and ourselves changes because we’re not all the same flower, we have different needs, different ways of watering each other situated around those needs, my photosynthesissss, needs a cuddle night sometimes and that’s okay.

And although our inter-communal interactions can be beautiful, ignoring the reality of how they came to be is a disservice to the love given to me. If I did that I’d only be watching myself grasp in failure and agony at a sliver of an aesthetic of love I’m comprehending on their surface.