Dangerous Compassions

gold medal

We went out about 5:30am.  The sun came up.  Thanks, sun.  She does that every day, so far.

I’m hurting a lot.  I was missing my skin, or somehow everything was going into me.  Everything hurt–the sign, the piss poor landscaping of boring bushes poorly trimmed by exploited workers, paid too little to much care.  The dude standing at the bus stop who looked like my friend who moved away.  Awkward skinny white guy wearing a covid mask, carrying a book, vulnerable on the sidewalk.

Looking for people who died a long time ago.  Looking for people who never existed.

Facebook shows me a person I might know, friend suggestion.  Oh, is that so and so?  No–oh yeah.  He’s dead.  He’s been dead a long time.

It’s ok to hurt.  I’m amazing at feeling.  If there was a feeling olympics, I’d be blushing on the top tier.  Gold medal crying Laura-Marie.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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