When I say you don’t have to worry about microplastics in your brain I mean that there is much stronger evidence that you should be worrying about other things that you don’t ever think about, like the draining of peatlands for agriculture, and things that you think about all the time, like fascism.

Sitting here crying and he's turned my opening up into a conversation about all HIS pains and issues. I'm alone. That it.

My mother will only like my "happy" posts but not about the struggle and fear of having a trans child in this political he'll. Yet she gets mad that I won't talk about the difficult things with her. But if I mention anything unpleasant to her it's fingers in her ears.

I remember being 12 standing against the fence, hoping for a foul ball. See, my dad played softball and paid me for every foul ball I found. As I stood there, the third base coach flirted with me and made comments on my body. Again, I was 12.

When I write using a pen it's not that I forget how to spell a word, it's more like the longer I write I forget HOW to write the word. Is that normal?

I'm the Sharri Franke in my family.

I like 80s toy stuff, new craft/art stuff, making tshirts, talk about specific authors,etc. What do I get for presents? Cooking stuff so I can make stuff for him, the same chocolates. And repeated requests to just "pick my own gift".

If I like it. He makes a sarcastic remark about it. Always saying it's a joke. But then he'll go on to tell me everything he hates about it.

When I try to explain myself he just brushes it off like everything I say isn't that hard. My mind is broken. I'm never going to be the same. But not sure he'll love me enough along the way.

Was always told I had no drive and was directionless.But whenever I talked about dreams growing up (vet,teacher,artist,geologist) I was told I'd never be able to do those I wasn't smart enough. So I stopped dealing. Then got in trouble for not having the dreams they took away.

Current WIPs. 2nd time using oils.

Hes so angry. Always angry. He says it's never at me. But I bear the brunt of it.

One day in school we had a substitute teacher. Mr Heinz (yes like the ketchup). Kids were throwing anything they could.Another teacher came in and asked "won't you do anything?"to the sub.He replied "she's not complaining".

A memory. When I was married my mom wouldn't take my medical need son for a honeymoon more than 3 days. The reason? When she married my step dad I was 6 or 7. They were only allowed to have a couple days of a honeymoon because they had to come because and get us kids. So she in turn punished me.

This account is my word salad of the pain in my mind. Whether that be thoughts, poems, etc. I can't keep it trapped in anymore.