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Gasping for air.

I am tired of holding my breath every day.  I don't quite remember what it is like to not fear the beginning of a new month and what those next thirty days will bring.  For five months straight we have collectively lived in a societal state of breath-holding fear.  Each month, something new. A new salt to our barely healing wounds. A new item on the long list of anxiety-causing subjects.  The news of giant bees and bats and fires and impeachments and empty grocery aisles and hospital beds and schools felt like the world was collapsing into chaos over and over and over again. People began to expect bad news. And it came. It piled on and on and on.  A deeply divided election, a civil rights movement, a political fight, a (still remaining) pandemic, an argument over health and science, an explosion.  Each day it was something new.  And the world was in it together.  That should be comforting really. They say misery loves company, but honestly, too mu...
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Getting older is trash.  So suddenly, the entire vision I had of the world has changed.  The loving and caring and kind vision and ideas I had of the world have been shifted. The person that I was four months ago, I think she is nearly dead. She is still there, but a part of her has been striped away. The person that I was in high school, I mostly hope she is gone for good.  In March I kept telling other people that goodness would come out of this mess. Goodness came, but not at all in the shape that I thought it would.  Goodness came in the form of late night, hour long snacks and baking with my sister. Goodness came in unexpected conversations with new friends. Ones that would not have happened otherwise.  Goodness came in the form of hours of time spent thinking about who I am and who I want to be.  Goodness came in a new "type" of community at school. One that was more virtual and looked a lot different but still remained. It came ...
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