January 7th, 2017. 3:51am.
The roaches seem to be invading and occupying your space with more command than usual.
It’s as though they recognize that you are gone, and aren’t coming back anytime soon.
January 7th, 2017. 3:58am.
Right now, I really want to say and write “fuck!” over and over and over again. And I don’t care what anyone thinks about that.
January 7th, 2017. 10:11am.
Can I be let off of the roller coaster now? Thanks.
January 7th, 2017. 11:46am.
I still have a lot to say. And I will for a long damn time if I can survive this.
If Diana’s suicide does not encourage you to want to examine the state of many of our local systems and organizations, that worries me.
Someone brought up the idea of RJ last night. I think that may be an avenue to explore.
When do Trans people kill themselves? When are they murdered? Where? Why? And how many of them are sex workers? These senseless losses occur most often among trans folks heavily engaged in the act of basic survival.
Note: not the art of survival. The act of survival.
That point, that place, that period of time when our people often lose their ties to purpose, their sense of safety, their belief in sustainability, their feeling of belonging.