#Orlando Feels
That's right, #Orlando feels. I have a lot of them.
- The absolute very first thing you have to understand is that I have not stopped thinking about this since the moment I looked at my phone and saw the news. I don't actually remember that exact moment particularly well, because I was half-asleep, and had to go back to sleep until it was time to wake up for work. Which, by the way, was my first day back after having three glorious days off. I vaguely recall that it was a mercifully busy shift, but other than that Sunday is pretty much a blur.
- Yesteday, on the other hand? My memories are both crystal clear & surround sound (hee, alliteration). I spent the whole day wishing to think about anything other than #Orlando & death & pain & suffering, but my brain just couldn't. As bad as the day was, the night was way worse:
- I. Could. Not. Sleep. Until after 5:00 AM in the goddamn morning. Because I kept thinking about it. Twist, turn, adjust mountain of pillows, twist, turn, adjust, twist, turn, adjust. All night. Since I couldn't sleep, I looked at my phone. Which was not the best idea. Because, very nearly every time I looked at my phone, I learned some horrifying new detail and got upset all over again. In retrospect, I should have anticipated this and gone to the pot shop for some Indica.
- Today was a lot like yesterday, but my music selection was slightly different: Wicked, then Wicked again, then Matilda the Musical, then Into the Woods. Musicals usually make me feel better. It . . . didn't not work, but it also didn't really work. My brain still couldn't stop thinking about it, but at the same time I could let my mind wander and think about other things.
- I really wish I could have stayed home today. I really, really wish I could stay home tomorrow. I wish I could look forward to Finding Dory without having to dread work.
- It's not that I'm dreading work itself. I dread leaving the house. Mildly. I mean, 72% of the time I hate leaving the house anyway, but now I don't feel safe. It's two-pronged: On the one hand, I don't feel like queer people are safe anymore (if we ever were). On the other hand, neither is anyone else. I'm not about to change a damn thing about my daily routine, because I left my intolerant childhood tiny town BEHIND and moved across the country to the Emerald City ON PURPOSE, but
- I still cannot believe this is seriously the world we live in. Still. In 2016. Not only is there a very real chance that literally anyone could start killing everyone, anywhere, at any time, but also? Some of them are always going to hate us this much. Just for existing, just for being ourselves, just for being *gasp* different, some of them are still always going to hate us enough to kill us. In 2016. And beyond.
- Did you HEAR about the other guy who was apprehended with a car full of weapons on his way to LA Pride?
- Today is Flag Day. I saw three flags: an American one & a rainbow one in front of the Renaissance, a hotel I walk past on my way to work, and another American one on top of the Space Needle, which you can see from my store. They were all at half-mast. Which was a really sweet gesture, and one I do appreciate. But it also made me ~ANGRY~ about the why of it all over again.
- Matilda the Musical is giving me all sorts of feels about my verbally & emotionally abusive childhood (which, by the way, was 157,000 times worse than it would have been because I also grew up in such a deeply Fake Christian family; Jesus hates fags) (note: He really doesn't) (because he'd be too busy feeding all the hungry & healing all the sick) (but that's none of my business), which is always such fun.
- After work, on my way to the bus stop, I remembered that Sunday is Father's Day.
- So, yeah, I am an emotional mess. NOT SUICIDAL, but mental health is tricky and self-care is serious business.
- Remember how I said I haven't stopped thinking about this since hearing the news? Yeah, it's taken me this long to feel my feels enough that they start to make sense in a way I can put into words. I have more of them, which I may or may not share tomorrow. For now, I must stop writing and shmoke some Indica, because I refuse to have another sleepless night.