I remember when he wrapped his tiny hand around my outstretched finger.
I remember holding him—me in my Ghostbusters uniform, him in a onesie.

Because I don’t want to keep holding grief like it’s a gift.
It’s exhausting.
I don’t want to keep losing people just to have more material.

Not everything deserves nuance.
Some things are just fucking stupid.

Let the girlies manifest on TikTok.
Let the hustle bros manifest passive income streams.
Let the spreadsheets manifest six-figure brands.

It feels like I called an Uber from Atlanta to LA, and it dumped me out in a cornfield in the middle of Oklahoma when the company shut down.

Life’s not hard.
It’s bloated.
It’s rigged.

The grim reaper has your address.
It’s punched into his GPS.

It’s all true.
It’s all ridiculous.
It’s all saving my life.

Shit was getting real.

It was a long week, but in the midst of it all, I found myself creatively restless