Dec 18, 2020
A Year Without an Ending
Is it strange, in a vortex of absence, to cherish endings? Only if loss and endings are the same.
Can Black writing be seen as more than a product of our death and pain?
On the internet, I didn’t have a body. It was like astral projecting into a secret treehouse with other non-embodied weirdos.
Envy feels a lot like binging—the more you give into it, the worse you feel.
