We, as a society. We, as spectators. We, as the collective. We, as those who read the stories, hear the rumours, watch the news wheels. We have an opportunity to speak up, speak out.
But if all you’ve ever known is drama and crisis aversion, how can you possibly be expected to live comfortably when everything is (checks notes) going right? Is that a thing? Is it possible that for thirty seconds – everything is okay?
So how do we balance? How do we quantify what’s really worth whatever energy we may have left to muster up? Which of your convictions are actually preferences, and what of your opinions are more like self-serving desires? How do we know when to pipe up, and when to “let it go”, and are there any brown paper bags anywhere to breathe into when we’re so fired up, we’re going to implode? At least it’s my mouth doing the smashing. I’m not a person who feels the need to throw a plate.
I had it in my mind to write it all down last night. I opted to snuggle down, hanker down, hide under the blankets with my boyfriend last night instead. And in the safety of his arms, I knew I could write about this today. Yesterday morning was a seemingly ordinary day. I love my…