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I can’t even.
I can’t believe I am going to another funeral tomorrow. I can’t believe another of the brave, tough, warrior women in my life has killed herself. I can’t process this grief while still trapped in the cavern of the grief that came before. I haven’t even washed the clothes I wore to Stef’s funeral, and I will probably wear them again tomorrow still stained with the blood, sweat and tears of my grief (and I do not mean that figuratively). How can this be reality? How can everything go so horribly wrong when we are all trying so fucking hard? I am an ocean of grief. What is the message in the bottle?
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There is so much to break down in this world other than each other.
I'm really interested in and amazed by lots of stuff. Particularly: - being queer as fuck - breaking everything down (other than each other) - active consent - sex-positive education - anti-oppressive language - reproductive freedom - rejecting the gender binary - cooking and eating food - dumpster diving - appreciating - being punk as fuck - Doing It Yourself - the ocean - spoken word poetry - spinning in circles - blowing bubbles - learning - teaching - sharing - this little blue ball on which we live - the solar system, galaxy and universe it is floating in - honesty - conflict resolution - books - direct action - adventuring - flexing my brain muscle - being generally amazed - you Some people who are incredibly important to me died very recently, so this blog is likely to contain lots of stuff about death and grief and suicide. If this is triggering for you or you don't wish to see it for any reason, let me know and I will do what I can to help. I also probably will post a bunch of punk music because that's pretty important right now.
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