2020.

2020.

I’m writing this because we can’t go through another breaking point. We are already broken. There is talk that our cities will never recover right now—and that’s a terrifying thought—but I worry more about the people of the cities, the people of suburbs, and the people of rural towns. My neighbors in Brewerytown are terrified. We spent time yesterday to talk about the protests and the wake of the events that are still unfolding before us in Philadelphia.

We talked about George Floyd, about cops, about riots, and looting, and then we talked about white skin, black skin, and the color we both bleed. And then I listened.

I listened as a mother and daughter talked about their fears of destruction plowing through our neighborhood at night, about how heartbreaking it is to have been silenced to the point where some feel the need to break out. I listened as another woman was visibly shaken over the idea of armed national guardsmen storming up our street. I listened because I’ve been heard for my entire life and not everyone has.

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When it broke.

When it broke.

The music was louder than normal. The lights bright, pink, and piercing through the light fog of the dance room. I was laughing like a lion and dancing how you imagine I would. It was midnight, and 30 seconds into the song before I realized what was playing. Our song.

I felt as if I was searching for something I knew I wouldn’t find throughout the night—as if you’d teleport to this bar 3,000 miles away—but now that you’ve filled my ears I regret finding you.

It was a mistake to snapchat you the scene of the dance floor even though we admitted that we wanted to talk again like nothing is different. We were more ourselves with each other than we are with anyone, but now, everything has changed.

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Love me some ‘Lover’

Love me some ‘Lover’

After binge-listening to Taylor Swift’s album, Lover, and recently learning about the Karlie Kloss – Taylor Swift (conspiracy) relationship, I’ve been blown away by some of Swift’s work. No, this isn’t just a shoutout to T-Swizzle’s songs—even if I’ve been a fan since wayyy back in the day and still know the entire rap to “Thug Story” (feat. T-Pain)—I’m impressed with how significantly her album resonates with my experience in pseudo-dating a straight girl.

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The end of the world

The end of the world

I’ve recently thought about what I’d do if the world was ending. If the phone lines all crashed – if nobody could contact each other… I don’t know how I’d react.

I couldn’t go to Long Island because I’d have to drive through NYC. All the roads would be blocked and that’s honestly the dumbest location to be. I can’t see my parents – they’re too far. Gas would be hard to come by and I wouldn’t be able to get as far as DC, let alone Florida.

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