Life introduced me to depression in the second grade. My parents decided to pull us out of the only school I’d ever known and move us to another city. Halfway through the school year. I was placed in an unsafe environment and I was clearly marked as the enemy.
Sometimes it’s too hard to find the right words, and you have to just step out and speak your truth regardless.
I love those pages where you search for something or type the URL wrong and you get some wacked out photo of a dinosaur having a panic attack.
You know the ones. You’ve landed on page that doesn’t exist, and rather than being lame and saying “Please try again”, it tells you to go eat a donut and make a wish or it donates a peso to a Columbian cartel.
Do they even use pesos in Columbia? I’m guessing not. That’s a shame. Pesos would be YUGE.
… Is For A Blog That No One Reads
I know because I’ve been blogging since 2005 – when the rest of you were still designing your MySpace pages (or wetting your diapers).
Chances are, you’re here because it occurred to you that it might be cool to own a domain called Supposed.ly and so you typed it into your address bar to see if it already exists.
Bummer. It does. And by the way, this random guy is talking to me about how we should pretend to care about each other.
I’m watching Megyn Kelly interview Tara Reade on Instagram. Earlier I watched clips of late night show hosts talk informally from their homes. There’s something about simple video production that makes celebrities seem so much more normal.
I rarely trust a confident person. Knowing what I know about my own self – my fallibility, my frequent lack of direction, and my ability to find a caveat to nearly every rule – the idea that a person exists in the world who doesn’t struggle with one or all of those things seems preposterous.