Been seeking out old emails this week. It started with a specific curiosity and continued for reasons unknown. I put controversial names in my search bar, see what they said, what I said. Sometimes I remember it all too well. Other times it feels like two mannequins typing to each other. Who was that person? Moreover, who was I? I'm so different. I would not say "completely" but perhaps 60%, which is significant. I get the impulse to write this past person and give context or explain I'll feel different later (but also I bet so will they). There's something about letting things sit and rest. Because years will tick on and change everything anyway. And if I hurt a being, I am sorry. At the same time, if they hurt me, they may be too.
Reading this book about sociopaths has made me even more narrowed. 4% of people don't have a conscience! Isn't that incredible! I didn't know! Most of them aren't violent. Many are actually just leeches. The question swims up, when you knew someone who surely couldn't be doing that one thing out of spite because who would that serve may have been indeed evil in their broken little heart! And here we are lifting, hefting, rearranging the furniture in our mind to accommodate them.
I watched a TikTok of a girl explaining she fell into her confidence about dressing bright and colorful when she watched a video the solar system. Earth was a speck and she a speck on a speck, why not wear a fluffy pink bubble dress? But isn't that oversimplification how we get distracted by mozzarella sticks and accept microaggressions/patriarchal cycles/the prison industrial complex?
