This winter feels downright gothic.

Yesterday I went to the weed dispensary for the first time. Passed the little I.D tollbooth, and entered the pharmacy of leaves. The cashier who gave me the once illegal goods, mentioned how the sun had made a reappearance for the day. A shining celebrity. We cannot believe we are seeing the sun after such a long and dreary winter. Not just a dark winter for me, or my county, or my state, but everyone in this country. I passed a car that had abolish I.C.E written in white marker on the windows. A beautiful sight on a shimmering day. This has been such a downright gothic winter. Waking up to the news of I.C.E murdering citizens, kidnapping immigrants, and predators running our government. Countries invaded, genocide. No one knows what’s real anymore. Jesus Christ, make it stop. Bring back the sun and the green grass and the bunny rabbits and the tulips. Something needs to grow. It’s like the soil is poisoned here. Bring back our pink sugar skin of peeps. Being an American right now feels like unwrapping easter chocolates only to find they are expired and moldy. And you cannot wash their melting dirty color off your fingers. But each time you hope it may be good news. News that justice prevails. That good wins. But we find more molded candy housing worms like cartoon apples.

Spring is rebellion. It is growing from the withered shell of yourself. From nothing to something. Dirt to daffodils. Total oblivion to tulips. And I hope we can carry the spirit of spring in our bleeding hearts this March, April, and May. April brings rain, crying over the trauma of winter. May brings warmth. And March…well I never liked you much March. But now I do. Because I am dehydrated for growth so bad. A pathetic little plant in a kitchen window sitting next to a sink, and not even droplets make their way to me. March is the beginning of hope. Growth that is often slow, but never gone.

It’s hard to make yourself move in winter. But my body longs for the sun. So does all of ours. And I feel like we are stuck in a total eclipse right now that refuses to pass. I push myself too hard to the point I get crippling anxiety that pulses through me like an electric current. I just want my life to move faster now that I feel I have a grip on the wheel and am no longer just a passenger in my own car. I don’t want to feel like a passenger in my own county either. I want to feel like what I want, what we all want, actually matters. And that our screaming at the sky actually does something. Reaches someone up there. Even a bird. Hell, a bug. I am scared of bugs. One’s in the government and under the ground. I am sick of the snow being scooped into cookies and cream looking bunches on sides of streets. Of once proud trees falling like toothpicks. There was no funeral held for them, but I feel one play out in my heart.

I wish you a spring of candy, peeps, dandelions, bumble bees, and resistance. You are no different than every other plant in the ground. You always resurrect.

this song really encapsulates the feeling of joy being stifled that i’m trying to express in this post…

inferno by the last dinner party

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