“Can I ask you an awkward question?” he asked me in his drunken stupor, via Snapchat messages. “I’m going to do it anyway. Have you done porn, and if so, where is it?”
For the past 13 years of my life, I’ve had an emotional support animal even though she wasn’t ever registered. Her name was Lemon, she was a cockatiel, and she saved me from killing myself when I was a teenager.
How do you stop constantly assessing if you’re doing “enough” work?
Society plugged us into this capitalistic machine of wanting to do work and feeling satisfied when we do more work, or the most work. When have you truly done “enough?”
A year ago, I left Los Angeles and in turn, broke up with this guy I had been seeing for about 6 months. We had been friends for approximately a year prior and he seemed okay until he fucked my whole life up.
When I first came to LA, I had a very specific vision of what it would be like and that was mostly Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake madly in love, wearing matching denim outfits.
Part 3 of this series is the final part until I develop new, weird symptoms or I am a few years out, writing a reflection piece. Continue reading