I aspire to the level of Victorian self-care where my extended wake-up routine just kinda fades riiight into my extended bedtime routine with just enough time for a complete existential meltdown and a turn about the room to ease my agonies in between

Look all I want is one (1) little bookcase-accessible secret room where I can go watch murder shows and drink serotonin milkshakes with Dolly Parton and the ghost of Betty White, is that so much to ask?

imagine a country so furious about drag performers that it voted for polio

Jeez, Hamilton transposed into a dark and minor key

if you don't know how Trump still has so many supporters just remember we as Americans need warning labels telling us not to eat soap

firing my therapist because he refuses to change my diagnosis to melancholia and prescribe me a tincture of laudanum

Earnest post, but: a thing I like here is it’s okay to have moments of happiness in public without being broadly scolded, and I believe that sustaining this kind of humanity will be very important as we resist fascism. We have to sustain each other. Making joy isn’t denial, it’s how we will survive