mb good job

in her natural habitat

girlfriends, on the other hand, have teletypes.

Same thing happened to me! I tore the skin of my thumb and index finger right off, and didn’t know my my strings felt so weird until I looked down. Guess I was rockin’ too hard 🤘

It's okay. I know why it was prescribed. I just thought it was funny.

I saw myself in the mirror for the first time yesterday. Just for a moment, underneath all the swelling.

Glad I’m not alone!

That man, Les Anderson, is one of the strongest, bravest men I've ever known. And Les knew who I was, bumps and bruises and everything, and he said to me "Sarah, you're one of the strongest people, I don't know how you do it." He loved me more than my biological dad ever did,

who were interred unfairly during the war. I watched him proudly speak of his grandson who is now a Marine, but hopes to god that he never needs to experience the horrors of war.

Do you know that I've been close friends with a World War II Marine veteran who served in the Pacific? He told me about his service. I watched him cry as he told me how they piled the bodies of his dead friends outside his barracks. I watched him cry as he talked about all of the Japanese-Americans

I realized tonight his deep weakness. Because with all of his physical strength and towering persona, he has never called me by my chosen name. He can't even talk to me.

but when he did, his voice shook the very earth beneath my feet. I remember one time during a fistfight, he picked me up and threw me 5 meters through the air into a wood pile; broke my glasses, sent the wood everywhere. Left me bleeding, went inside without a word.

Throughout my childhood, my dad seemed to be the paragon of strength. He could dead-lift almost anything. He could cause the impossible to become possible. He got his way, often just by being huge and present, like a mountain range casting its shadow over everyone else. He didn't have to yell,

(Nobody else has to read this. It's just for me, and that's fine.)

And I've been working on silencing that voice, because it's been around for my entire life, and it's never done me one bit of fuckin good. Despite this, it lives constantly, rent-free in my head, always saying the absolute worst imaginable shit to me.

That hammock was perhaps one of my greatest inventions.