It is nearly the witching hour as I write this. There is a hard edge that is necessary when occupying land. There are weird upsets people experience when simple actions are taken to make things more equitable for everyone. More just for those whom always have had shirty experiences. This the frontline of a more beautiful, just, peaceful, and verdant world.

The hard edge then must evaporate. It must form again raining down onto wider spaces; distinction only exists between individuals. And even with the myriad ways and aspects that make us unique, we still have more in common than I’d ever like to admit. I long for the day when the hard and soft edges no longer need to be distinct.

Sometimes I feel like I am the beating heart of the movement. But I am only one heart. And it takes many to push things this far. A queer little partial POC that might end up standing alone on this tiny bit of earth. Because I can imagine if this were happening to my family.

And then I remember that I can be pretty terrible. Like, I feel stupid, and brave but after the shirt everyone else has been going through, this is a tiny thing. It only requires patience. And possibly getting beaten up by the cops, hopefully not much worse, but the world has come to that. It’s friggin weird. Being around this family makes me feel like I can be better.

In the end. I’m just a weirdo, sitting at the top of some stairs, reposed and as comfortable as I can be. Thinking about how the police illegally broke into our home, destroyed it, stole our things and kidnapped my family. To say that I am angry is only a minute part of the tormenta that whorls behind my eyes. We live in a dumb world where people have to be reminded that Black Lives Matter. In school they gloss over the fact that settling this country was brutal and violent and unconscionable acts were committed upon the original inhabitants. Anywho just some thoughts as I rage on.