The beautiful, ordinary, everyday things
This evening I finished a beautifully haunting horror novel, and usually what this means is a late night of lying in bed trying to prevent my thoughts from wandering too deeply into the world the story has created in my mind. But not tonight. Instead, I am spending the night tending to my soul because I recently heard news of an old acquaintance and his ongoing poor thoughts of me. I need to be liked. I have learned early on in life that to be liked is a matter not of frivolity but of survival. Popularity gives you opportunity. Unpopularity means loneliness and voicelessnsss and an unnameable negative reality. My default is to live in a world of dichotomies. This, however, isn’t true to how life works. It’s messy and colourful and never stays within the lines. I know this, and I love this. I hate that the memory of animosity can steer me away from this understanding. I may be paraphrasing here but I believe Taylor Swift once said that basing your entire self-worth on whether or not peo