fonting of,
i was having a conversation with someone in the entertainment industry.
they are a pretty big deal in their field.
he sent me a VN talmbout:

“i really like what you are doing with your website.
you have a gift and you are so popular.
everyone knows you…”

stop right there.
…who are you talking too?

so i watched the “wicked for good” trailer and bawled.

the young me,
that frowned every time karaoke played the broadway soundtrack for the original “wicked”,
would judged at the current me.
tbh:

i hate i didn’t get into wicked sooner.

back then,
i was so concerned with fitting into spaces that never welcomed me,
i really missed a story that reflected my life back to me.

it’s funny how the things we react when we are ashamed of ourselves,
eventually come back to heal or teach us a lesson.

when i watched the first “wicked” movie last year,
i didn’t expect to relate to “the green one” so deeply…

i didn’t realize empathy had died until i saw the crowd it drew.
influencers in black,
ring lights at the casket,
hashtags as eulogies.
somewhere between the reposts and the think pieces,
the human part of caring got lost.
everyone’s mourning but no one’s moved…

last night,
i was telling someone that 2025 has been the year of learning people.
they were grieving someone they loved that passed away.
someone who complained about how cruel folks were to them when they were alive.
those same jackals in 2025?

posting tributes
writing novels on all the socials
acting like they cared for clout

…but the one on the phone who actually stood by them?
they are being treated like a ghost.

these days,
a crisis only matters if it trends on tiktok.
if it becomes a 30-video saga with sad music and captions for sympathy.
we got people with typical ‘send love’ or ‘checking in’,
but disappear the second it gets inconvenient.
empathy out; self absorption in.
they WILL reappear if you win the lottery,
get nominated for an emmy,
or fuckin’ drop dead.

we’ve got a president who confuses pettiness for leadership and who thinks empathy is weakness.

…and i’m starting to realize more of us are like him than we care to admit.
that should hurt feelings.
so i can’t help but wonder…

when i was a kid,
my mother bought me a doll.
i think my mother would have been okay with me being gay tbh.
it wasn’t barbie or a baby doll,
but it was def a doll the size of a ninja turtle.
i loved this doll and played with it along with my action figures.

the way i played with toys was usually superhero shit.
the female characters were either fighting or were “damsels to rescue”.
i would create worlds with my imagination,
often times taking boxes and making tanks or battleships.

well,
one day my doll up and disappeared.
anytime my grandmother wasn’t home,
i tore her house down looking for my doll.
at a young age,
i could sense fuck shit so i KNEW she had something to do with it.

when my mother died,
she admitted she tossed it in the trash.

when i tell people this story,
they were always empathetic.
i was also told from many people that incident created trauma too.
the things our parentals did to make sure “we weren’t gay“.
when i see parents like…

two weeks.
two weeks until the end.
two weeks until the trap door opens.
two weeks until i might be,
well,
homeless.

what do you do when the countdown to your next chapter feels more like a ticking time bomb than a fresh start?

i refuse to be the fox living out of his shoes…

Foxhole…

i’m so fuckin tired of bad news every fuckin’ Goddamn day.

like…