A whole year.

A whole year in complete suspension. A year riddled with every level of anxiety imaginable.

We covered the city with plywood.

We covered the plywood with art.

We made joyful noise at 8pm.

We felt like part of something.

I cried over SAAS acronyms.

We ordered take out to support our local restaurants.

I homeschooled.

We bought flowers from the vendors supporting the market.

We roamed the streets like drunk buffalo with no liquor laws in a suspended society.

We turned the parks into our weekend night out.

We protested.

We rioted.

We launched local cancel culture.

We burned.

The CHOP was born.

The encampments rose up.

I lost friends.

I gained friends.

I learned.

I paid off my debt.

My body hurt from working at my breakfast bar.

I learned how to wash tear gas out of my eyes and spray paint off my car.

I learned the art of backpacking.

I learned to tell a gunshot from a firework.

I learned the art of being alone.

I learned to recognize depression.

I learned to let it go.

I just couldn’t.

Sometimes I still can’t.

I learned nobody holds it against me.

We’re all doing the best we can.

Fuck anyone who casts judgement during this time.

Seriously. Bye.

I let fear go.

I started booking travel again. I worried what people might think – “traveling in a pandemic! What an asshole she is!’

Then I let that go too.

I don’t need everyone to like me.

I simply don’t care.

I’m just me.

I am just doing the best I can.