

It’s collective PTSD. 1997. Keeping up with things feels like a marathon. It’s hard smile rn. It doesn’t feel appropriate rn. You Stonewall until the other person indicates how they feel, but sometimes you get two blank faces going back and forth. In general, we live in interesting times and I don’t want to het punched in the face because I smiled about Trump being a bitch.


I still see daisy chains of blind box rewards. Ur good.