Scandalous.

This summer appears to have spawned from Sam Levinson’s imagination.

Everyone around me is in an intense drama-scape. No one needs to use hyperbole. It’s all, a lot.

Our old lives? Hanged, drawn and quartered.

Pew. Pew. Pew.

Me? I want to dry-brush my skin, soak in oils, don a Doen dress, stand on a British Columbia hilltop and yell,
“I’ve felt it all!”
”I want to feel peace now!”

I’m Julia Roberts in EAT PRAY LOVE, but without all the fabulous teeth.

Is that too much to ask for?

But peace is evasive for myself, my friends, society.

People are acting out of pocket.

At his point in history, in the middle of this boiling earth pile, does anyone feel they can look after themselves and be a good partner? Was there ever a time in history where people were capable of being good partners?

I don’t know. History. Says. No.
My eyes and ears consistently tell me, never, girl.
Could I be surprised? Always.

This is what I’m getting at: There has been a lot of learning and growing over the past two years but I still cried in a restaurant on a date and if you’ve subscribed you are privy to the details.