Salisbury.Fake Life, writing

Indivisible

When I was in elementary school, every morning Mr. H would come over the PA system, blasting “My Girl” before delivering the morning announcements. After the announcements were done, a student would lead the school in the Pledge of Allegiance. This practice happened every morning of my school life from elementary until my senior year when we were given the option of not rising or reciting. As a tired senior, I was grateful for the option of staying seated, and I never really considered the significance of what we spoke each morning for so many years. The practice continued, of course, and as I sat there, I started to think about the words. The original words are as follows:

“I pledge allegiance to my flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

The addition of the phrases “of the United States of America,” and “under God,” weren’t added until much later. I’m not debating the addition of these words today, but what I am drawn to is the significance of the word “indivisible.” It’s not even a joke anymore how clearly split down the center my country is. The memes hide the excruciating sadness at such a fragile thread of balance left. There are two major camps, something that always amazes me how people can be lumped into one specific group when the issues are so diverse. To me, this is not what the founders of our country had in mind when they began the bells of revolution just 245 years ago. In my short span of life, that feels like an age has passed. And with the rush of technology and information, it certainly can be described as such.

In one of my favorite underrated musicals, 1776, there’s a powerful scene where they’re preparing to vote on the resolution for revolution (essentially). The vote has been stalled because the south wants the clause about slavery being abolished removed, and the north doesn’t want to take it out. Here’s a quote from that scene:

Benjamin Franklin: “John, I beg you consider what you’re doing.”
John Adams: “Mark me, Franklin, we give in on this issue, posterity will never forgive us.”
Benjamin Franklin: “That’s probably true, but we won’t hear a thing, we’ll be long gone. Besides, what will posterity think we were, demi-gods? We’re men, no more, no less, trying to get a nation started against greater odds than a more generous god would have allowed. First things first, John. Independence. America. If we don’t secure that, what difference will the rest make?”

I bring this scene up not because I want to prove that slavery was kept to appease the south, but more because I reached an understanding high school me didn’t see. The founders weren’t more than men brought together to build something new, something completely unheard of, and we’ve raised them to the level Franklin mentions. I’m not naive enough to believe that those men were infallible, that they were the brilliant beings we tout them to be, but I respect what they were trying to do. Franklin’s comment about how if they didn’t secure independence, there’d be nothing to fight for, that fits the part of me that wants to fight for the world.

I don’t have a very loud voice on the internet, but I am doing my research to see what I can to help end the division. In my immediate surroundings, anyway. History cleaned the books up too well, and the issues plaguing us now are because we are too fragile to see what was done to build the country we currently call home. Land was stolen, backs were broken, blood was spilt, lives were lost to provide what we have today. Trying to shove that under the proverbial carpet is irresponsible and incorrect. Lying to ourselves about our past is only hurting us and our future. We cannot grow if we refuse to accept what we’ve done.

There’s one more quote I have from 1776 that remains to this day what I try to live my life by. Abigail Adams, in the musical, is trying to remind her husband of why he’s fighting for this whole thing, and she quotes something he said to her once, and that is:

“There are two creatures of value on the face of this earth: those with a commitment and those who require the commitment of others.”

This quote stokes the fire I have for lifting others up, for trying to help the world be a better place for everyone. Again, I’m not so foolish to believe it can be done quickly, but I’m firmly rooted in my belief that it can be done. I take those words to mean I require commitment of others–to do the best they can. To learn, to grow, to work toward being better. To treating others better. But not to do more than they are able. Minds can be changed. It takes monumental effort, but it can be done. We don’t yell or shout down violence on those who yell back at us. No, we take this to the quieter ones. The ones who see both sides. We talk, and we listen, and we then take what we learn back to whatever side we’re on, and we educate. We share what we learn, and we then build each other up.

It’s my fervent hope. I want accountability from those who need to own up to the reality of what our history was, and I want to see us grow together.

Salisbury.Fake Life, Weekly Update

Summer 2021 Hiatus

Salisbury Fake is going on a short break for the rest of June and first two weeks of July. Posts will resume July 17.

I’d like to take a moment to say thank you to those of you who come back to read my blog posts week after week. I know they can be a bit scattered and sometimes morose, but I am truly grateful you continue to stop by. I can’t do giveaways or anything super fancy, but if you’d ever like to receive a poem from me written just for you, or a personalized “hey, how are you, what’s your favorite breakfast food?” message, please request it here https://salisburyfake.wordpress.com/contact-me/ using this link. Or if you’d like to say hi, or tell me my feet smell weird (although if you know that, please don’t tell me, because it means you’ve gotten close to me and I didn’t know).

Until next time, friends.

Salisbury.Fake Life, Weekly Update

It Isn’t the Same

Once more I found myself uncertain of what I wanted to write about this week, and I still don’t think I have a full grasp on it yet, but we’ll try it out and see how far we go. I’ve been thinking a lot about self-worth and self-image and before you tune me out and say “this ain’t a self-help blog,” I know. And I know I’ve talked about this kind of stuff before on this blog, but I gotta just put my thoughts down here.

It’s an interesting thing nowadays, where we have the socialization on the internet. Complete strangers read what I write and sometimes click a button showing they enjoyed what I had to say. “Back in my day,” I say like I’m wise enough to, we didn’t have the luxury of tucking ourselves behind a digital screen to consider ourselves social. It might be a leap to call social media “socializing,” but I’ve witnessed friends end friendships on Facebook over something someone said, and that’s just as real life as anything else. Sure, it may not be fisticuffs in the parking lot after work or anything, but the way people take certain things seriously online these days is wild to me.

I guess that’s where I question why I do this blog. I appreciate that I have a goal to maintain it and keep it going because it’s very much for me more than it is for anything else. I do appreciate those of you who read this and continue to read it, but I don’t know. I’m not quitting, just pondering the efficacy of such a life. Where validation has become external and internalizing that sounds like a foreign concept.

I’ve always thought I had a deep self hatred–which I do–but it’s not every day that I think I’m garbage. It’s only when something I perceive as significant happens that I tend to spiral into a thought loop of hate and “you’re not worth the effort.” Now, let me clarify by what I mean when I say something I perceive as significant, because there have been times where I’ve felt something pretty powerful about the way I’ve been treated, and the person (or persons) who did the thing to me don’t see it the way I do. A wise friend of mine once told me to make sure I was telling the right story to myself to see if how I was reacting was accurate or if it was what I thought I should be feeling. Because of that, I’ve grown a lot in my perception of how I respond to things.

But what I’m talking about, the significant thing, I mean something like a personal failure. I’ve been trying to get in the habit of regularly walking/jogging with one of my best friends after work (our parking lot allows for such a side quest), and my gut reaction most of the time is “another day,” or “next week will be better.” I posted about the book The Power of Habit on here recently, and one of the things the author brings up as a key force in changing habit is the power of belief in that change. I go into full panic mode when change happens. I don’t do well with it, not even slightly. Even if it’s positive. The reason being is I don’t have the core belief that I am capable of being who I want to be.

Do you know how heartbreaking that is to realize? My niece, who’s 2 1/2 ish years old, adores me and she knows I am so full of love for her. She doesn’t know how little I care about myself. Mainly because that part of me doesn’t exist when I’m around her. She deserves the best the world can give her.

But so do I. I’m not good at this. Where I confront myself and try to see a way around the problem until I can fix it properly. Because it bubbles up and turns into days where my throat hurts because I’ve been holding back tears. Self pity is one thing, but knowing the way you feel about yourself isn’t good is a completely different thing. It gets tricky when you try to change that because if you’re like me, you have almost two decades of practice throwing yourself to the proverbial wolves and hoping you make it out the other side. I know I’ve said this before, but I don’t tell people that mental illness gets better, because it doesn’t really. You find ways to carry it differently, so your neural patterns go a different way when certain things happen. The change bit there is almost subconsciously done because we tend to shy away from discomfort.

I’m not sure if this all makes sense, or even if it flows well. I don’t think I’ve said all I wanted to, but I don’t know how to express that at the moment. This weekend I’m being gentle with myself and telling myself it’s okay to skip mowing the lawn because the bees need the clover. I hope you’re well, and I hope you have a pleasant weekend. You are worthy of good things, and it’s not a problem if you take time for yourself.

Until next time, friends.

Salisbury.Fake book review, Life

The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg

Technically I haven’t finished reading this, but I reached the appendix and the notes, so I’m going to discuss my thoughts on this book today. When I picked this up, it was kind of on a whim. The title caught my eye at the store, and the yellow grabbed me, too. I’ve been struggling with personal habits lately, so I thought this would be an interesting perspective to read through. I was right. This book is incredibly readable. Typically when I grab non-fiction, I struggle to read it because it’s very factual and very thoroughly researched (hopefully, anyway). That’s not to say this isn’t well researched or full of facts, because it is that, but Duhigg approaches it from a reader perspective. Something I feel non-fiction writers tend to forget is how to appeal to readers of all genres and types. They get caught up in the truth they’re telling and the presentation is much like a lecture hall PowerPoint by someone at the end of their career and they’re waiting for retirement.

This is not the case for Duhigg. He starts with a story of a man with short term memory loss who can’t tell you where he lives, but he can go on a walk at 2 pm every day and still end up at home without knowing why. There are several intriguing studies presented throughout the book that made me realize I know very little about my own brain. He goes through how Febreeze became a household name, and how stores can predict your buying habits by going through your purchases when you scan your rewards cards. Something stores may not want put in the public eye, but while that’s creepy, it’s also incredibly fascinating.

The first part of the book focuses on individual habits, why we do what we do (which is the sub-title of the book). We create what’s called a “habit loop,” which consists of three parts: a cue, a routine, and a reward. As we receive the same cue, then follow the same routine, and expect the same reward, a habit is formed. This is true for negative habits, too, which makes sense because even though we don’t typically think of the negative outcomes as rewards, they become ingrained as part of the routine, so we follow them. Sometimes unwittingly.

I’m not saying this book has changed my life completely, because I still have habits I consider unhelpful to the person I want to be, but it’s certainly opened my mind to a new realm of understanding. One of the key factors in habit change is belief. Duhigg uses the coaching style of Tony Dungy to approach the topic of belief and he talks about how no matter what Dungy did, the teams would revert back to their old habits in times of stress simply because their belief in the new ways faltered. This is honestly the stage of change I struggle with the most.

This last year I’ve been trying to revamp my thought processes–before I read this book, even more so now–and the process has been almost excruciating. I’ve spent almost 2 decades hating myself, and trying to switch gears and think differently feels like an impossible thing. But that’s the thing about it all. It isn’t impossible because I’m doing it in small ways here and there. I’ve talked about how my depression manifests itself as dishes to wash and laundry I move from hamper to mattress back to hamper. Well it still does, but not as badly. My dishes are never more than a few days left unwashed, and I fold my laundry within a day of doing it. I don’t know specifically what changed my brain to do this, but somehow I’ve convinced my depressive side that this is unacceptable and there needs to be something different we do when I get caught up in my head for too long.

I think this book is worth a read if you’re interested in habits, but I don’t think it’s a book everyone should read. Some people are living their best lives and have no need to go this far into their own heads. I give this book an 8/10.

********I read the 2014 Randomhouse Trade Paperback edition*******

Salisbury.Fake Life, Weekly Update

Sunshine and Reminiscing

lemon poppy seed pancakes because spring and sunshine and lemons!

You know what’s really wild to me? Ten years ago, I never would have been able to understand my life as it is now. I graduated college (in December, but still). I also hit the lowest point I’d ever been in my life ten years ago, and events unfolded that will impact me forever.

I don’t really have much to say today other than it’s been almost a year since I signed my mortgage papers and I have no idea how to tell you how blown my mind is by that. Moral of the story, I guess, don’t give up on yourself when times are really rough. It’ll come together someday. It might take ten years. It might take twenty or more. But you owe it to yourself to find out.

Until next time, friends: you are everything you need for your own happiness.

Salisbury.Fake Life, Weekly Update

Sunday Chat #2

I was going to do another How I Write today, but I’m not feeling it. I’m not sure what I’m feeling, to be honest. I wasn’t going to post today, but my goal this year is to post every week, and with the exception of maybe one week, I’ve done that. So today might just be a quick blarp into the universe about how it’s all right to have off days or something.

I try to put positivity into the world because there’s just so much negative nonsense going on, but it’s exhausting at times to be the bubble. I feel like that sounds a bit boo hoo Belinda, but really. I’m not always excited about life. There are more than doldrums that bog my joy down, and while I don’t always feel like talking about it, I think it’s important not to stifle those moments when they come. I tell people to let themselves feel what they feel, and yet when it comes to myself I tend to be really harsh and deny myself the advice I give others. I know this is not new to the world. This behavior is not unique to me.

But there’s a loneliness in it. There’s an emptiness that threatens to turn bitter like the aftertaste of an artificial sweetener. What you think is familiar is actually damaging more than you let yourself think. Wallowing is different than steeping, and I feel as long as I’m wallowing, I’ll be salvageable.

I’m going to go get some work done around the house, and I’m going to remember it’s okay to feel like an oversteamed potato every once in a while. The key to it is to remember to come back. Not to let it take root in your mind and become a gnarled mess you have to untangle later, when it’s worse.

With that said, here’s a photo of some fake flowers I bought myself yesterday because I had rewards points and I wanted to get myself something pretty.

Until next time, friends
Salisbury.Fake book review, Life

Let’s Talk About Books

I was the kid who didn’t get TV taken away when I was in trouble, I got my books taken away. I still found ways to read even when I was not supposed to. Telling me I couldn’t go outside wasn’t a problem for me, because I preferred escaping through the world of books. We didn’t live close enough for me to walk to my friends’ houses, so that wasn’t an issue for me either. My parents would have to find more creative ways to punish me for disobedience.

Books have always been my vice. When I lived with my mom for a bit and had my books in storage for over a year, the first thing I grabbed when I moved into my place was my crates of books. I add more and more to my “to read” shelves faster than I’m actually reading. Home is not home without my books.

But today we’re going to do a bit of a discussion about how brains work.

When I’m at the height of a depressive episode, I tend to shut down the parts of my brain that activate on creative stimulus. Easy distraction is how I live my life in those times, and so I watch a lot of Netflix, or I spend hours on YouTube trying to find ways to give my brain an easy way out from thinking so much about the stuff that makes my chest hurt.

The thing about that though is it becomes a habit. I struggle to focus on reading now because I got so in the habit of switching on easy media to keep my brain from spiraling. This isn’t to say I don’t read anymore, because I do, but it’s nowhere near the “read the entire Harry Potter series in five days over Spring Break” level I used to be.

I also have a full time job, and I have a home to own, so there are added responsibilities to my life I didn’t have when I could be so carefree with my time. I miss those days, though, when I could spend entire days reading a series and finishing two books in a day. I’ve considered devoting weekends to that, but then the adult part of my brain reminds me I have dishes to wash and laundry to get done. This reasoning also feels like an excuse sometimes, especially when I don’t get either the dishes or laundry done.

So, today’s post is more of a gentle reminder that it’s okay to let yourself get lost in a book every now and then. It’s okay to find your way back to the part of you that misses that feeling, whether it’s about books or some other hobby you could lose yourself to. I think breaking out of bad habits is excruciating because as we know change is something most people dig their toes into the sand over. For me, my goal is two books a month until I get my mojo back.

Small steps forward seem insignificant until you realize you’ve gone three miles.

Salisbury.Fake Life, writing

How I Write – Workspace

At a desk, the kitchen table, sprawled on the couch, propped up in bed, the dashboard in my car on a lunch break, under a tree at the park, in full view of people so they can see me writing: I’ve done it all. I’m sure you can tell from the title that this post today is all about my creative workspace. I have a couple, and they’re all in the same room, so let me talk to you about them.

When I was house hunting last year, one of the requirements was 3 bedrooms. Not because I have a family or plan to have one, but I wanted a guest room, and an office. Most of my life I’ve never had the space to feel free to make a metaphorical (or literal) “creative” mess. I’ve either confined myself to my bedroom to write, had my desk available, but it functioned as a holder of other things and less like what a desk should be, or I’ve had to use the kitchen table. This isn’t a problem because it’s a lovely thing to have a kitchen table you then have to clear away so you can use it for food. But I still wanted more.

So, when my realtor showed me this house, the master bedroom fit my visions of the perfect space. When I moved in, my sister helped me paint the back wall “Delft pottery” blue, and I’ve been putting up all the things that inspire my creativity. A signed poster from my favorite singer/songwriter, Zac Hanson’s scribble on a piece of notebook paper I had in my bag, Dried flower, my sister’s artwork, a photo of my niece’s foot she took herself, a map of Middle Earth from a very dear friend, and more yet to come. (I’d post a photo of this wall, but I also have photos of my friends and family and I don’t want to expose them to the internet outside of Facebook).

I fully believe in having a dedicated space to be productive. Whether it’s writing or other creative projects, I think it’s important to have a place your brain automatically knows “it’s time to work.” I’ve got two spaces for working, both in the same room, so when I come in here, my mind switches to productive mode. Whether I’m sitting at the art space or at my desk for writing, I am able to focus on the project I want to get done. Today it happens to be a blog post and afterward, I’ll be working on typing up the stuff I’ve written recently (that process is another discussion).

Of course, creativity isn’t limited just to the things I can put on paper. It’s also about growing my mind through reading and visuals. Which brings me to the wall opposite my desk, the one behind me right now. I have my small library set up, and I got an accent chair to curl up in and read.

The last place I have in my office that I was going to try and post a photo of (but WordPress is having a moment, so I won’t this time) is my photo “studio.” It’s really just a half-closet with a card table and some fabric backdrops that I pin to a bulletin board. I mostly use sunlight for now, but one day I’ll have actual lighting for those times I don’t wake up at the sparrow fart of dawn for a good photo.

Sometimes when I think about the life I have now, I wonder if I deserve it, and I think the answer I’d get is a resounding yes from the people who matter to me, and while I appreciate their support and love, one day it’d be nice to believe that for myself. Allowing myself to feel proud of the house I’ve been turning into a home, my home, that’s not narcissism no matter how much my brain tries to tell me it is. It’s important to have places that make you feel like a person, like a worthwhile person. Surrounding yourself with what helps you feel creative, productive, peaceful, that’s important.

I’ve finished my coffee, and I’ve eaten my toast. I’m going to get to work on the day’s projects. Until next time, friends.

Salisbury.Fake Life, Weekly Update

Sunday Morning Chat

I had goals this week of starting another series of posts discussing literary theory, but it’s too early in the day to go full brain on myself. Then I thought I’d do a post about Henry, someone near and dear to my heart, but the post I outlined ended up feeling too personal to put on here (listen, I know I wrote about my biggest fear, but Henry is a different level of personal). So, now I’m eating my breakfast of cold banana pancakes (I don’t have a toaster or a microwave and I’m not feelin’ the need to wash too many dishes today) and enjoying the sunshine coming through my office window.

It’s cold as balls in my house this morning, and the cold pancakes aren’t helping me, but I’m at peace today. I go back to the office tomorrow for work, and while I’m not looking forward to the health hazard, I’m looking forward to seeing the people I’ve missed. We’re already getting emails of “the new normal” and the phrase is exhausting in the sense I don’t want to face yet another new normal. Life is full enough of them. But that’s pessimistic, so I’ll steer myself back to the positive thoughts of seeing some of my favorite people.

I’m looking forward to springtime. The weather app says it’s supposed to be in the 60s this week, and I’m ready to ride with my window down. Feel the bypass wind in my hair as I drive too fast because I forgot I’m at the office now and left my house late. I’m looking forward to starting a garden this spring, and getting my backyard set up for friend times in the summer. I’m going to get my firepit settled, and I’m going to build a second patio (sort of) reusing some stones from the yard. It’s going to be a good season for me and hopefully for you.

I’m going to walk more with one of my best friends after work in the outlet mall parking lot. I’m going to keep eating better and keep losing weight (I’ve lost twenty pounds since I gave up Taco Bell back in December). I’m going to maintain as positive a vibe as I can because the world is full of people having tragedy after tragedy and if I can be a bit of brightness for someone, I’d love to do that.

If you are struggling to feel something other than useless, I want to remind you that you are quite useful, in fact. You have a wealth of knowledge, and you have a lot to offer the world, and plot twist: it has a lot to offer you. It might seem bleak, but the sun’s coming up earlier now, which means you have plenty of time to work for yourself. Hang in there, if it’s getting a bit tough. The good times are coming. I believe it. If you are feeling less than lovely to yourself, that’s okay. Sometimes the clouds get in the way, but the sun is always waiting for you on the other side.

And on that note, I’m going to make some tea and get to work on some writing before I have lunch with my mom. Until next time, friends, remember: you are and always will be enough.

Salisbury.Fake Life, Uncategorized

Be Not Insignificant

I don’t know how to begin this. I did have an opening that was pretty funny and clever, but honestly, I don’t feel like being funny right now. I feel like being real. Something that is lacking in today’s world a lot. With all the pressure to be on trend, be good at TikTok or whatever social media is poppin’ at the moment, and be more than what we are, I would like to be who I am and say I don’t know how to say what I want to. So, I’m going to type and see if something good comes of it.

For a while I was avoiding the Netflix show Bridgerton, because while I do find myself enjoying those types of period dramas, it looked like it was too bubblegum for me. Too pastel. I base my standard of enjoyment on the 2005 Pride and Prejudice with Kiera Knightley, if that tells you anything about me. I judged myself hardcore for watching all of the first season in a night (I had insomnia, might as well, right?). But then I watched it again because I was captivated by Rege-Jean Page’s performance as the Duke of Hastings. Not because he’s visually stunning (well, yes, that) but because his acting was remarkable. The way he conveyed subtlety is something I don’t think can ever be taught in an acting class, and each time it took my breath away. I truly believed he loved Daphne.

I did not have the same childhood Simon did, but I do know the weight of pressure, and the weight of personal promises. I won’t go into it too far because I don’t want to spoil anything, but there’s a scene that kind of stuck me right in the middle of my biggest insecurity. I didn’t even know it existed until I saw it so plainly on his face. After a confusing moment with Daphne where she says some pretty intense and rather hurtful things, Simon reaches out to her and says:

“You said I was enough!”

The desperation and pleading in his face, the absolute betrayal of what he thought was love was like a lightning bolt from my head to my toes. I wanted to throw up when I realized. I actually had a small breakdown because it hit me so hard, and I was so embarrassed that it was such a “bubblegum” show that caused me to have this incredibly powerful realization about myself.

I’ve always said my biggest fear is losing my family. And it’s still pretty high up there on the list, along with snakes and spiders, but in terms of metaphysical fear, I am afraid of not being good enough at love to keep it if I have it. When I have feelings for someone, and I mean real feelings with intent (not my ridiculous attraction to Henry Cavill), I tend to become obsessive about it. I throw myself into being the best me I can be and watch the other person to make sure I’m doing what they like and I either tone it down or raise the level depending. It’s not the same as changing myself, because I’m still me, just reducing or elevating the qualities the person of my affection seems to approve of, or disapprove. I never realized it was a fear of losing them.

But there seems to be a bit in all of us, a bit that hides behind the curtains of jokes and trending videos. The part we reach for when we’re drunk with self-pity–for good reason because here we are on a Saturday night talking to the internet. Life is so full, and yet so empty all the same.

I don’t define myself by a relationship. But should the day come, I want to be exactly what someone needs. As Simon puts it, “From the mornings you ease, to the evenings you quiet, to the dreams you inhabit, my thoughts of you never end.” I’m not interested in being someone’s everything, which might seem like a contradiction to what I’ve said above, but hear me out. I’ve been very good at being alone for a very long time, and I’d need time to be away, but I want to be home for someone. I want to be the smile that catches someone off guard. The reason for inappropriate laughter. The distraction in a work meeting because of an intense conversation the night before about something in a book we’ve both read.

I can be the most compassionate, the brightest, creative, kind, generous, whatever positive label you want to put on me, but if I do not feel it in my bones, I will never agree that I am worth it. I never want to see doubt in another person’s face, a person I’ve trusted to love me. I think that would shatter me. It’s a lot to take in, and this has been very personal. Some might wonder why I’m being so open and personal on the internet where everything is forever, but it’s because feeling like this is not new. And it is not limited to me. We should be able to talk about our deepest insecurities and not feel judged for them.

So, where does that leave us for today? I don’t know. I don’t know why I chose the title of this piece to be what it is, but the phrase stuck with me, so I’m keeping it. I guess my final thought would be don’t get so caught up in thinking you’re the worst when really you could be the best to someone. Hiding behind our self-doubt and loathing only sharpens that knife of self-betrayal, and one day will leave us bitter and empty. The emptiness I feel now is nothing to the emptiness I know exists within bitterness, and I do my best to stay above that.

This isn’t a happy blog post, and I won’t apologize for it. If you do have someone you love, I wish you joy and contentment in your love. I wish for you to soar with each other and be the brightness the other needs in the weird, wild world we have these days.

Keep smiling. Keep loving. You are, as always, enough.

Until next time, friends.