From April 2022 Stacy

Photo by Aviv Perets on Pexels

Dear future me,

Living gets harder the older I become. I never asked to be born, I never asked to learn about all the shitty family secrets or technically the knowledge or stories or whatever. I don't know what to do with them. I don't know what to say about it. They're like sand passing through my fingers. There and then gone, but I still remember it. And it feels like a burden that just adds to the mountain called generational trauma.

I guess the best I can do is just move on and let time slowly wash them away.

And now the weather: 

Not My Proudest Moment by Anna Akana

~ Stacy N.