Paramore Performing In 2006 (x).

paramore performing in 2006 (x).

i’m grateful for the good in people, and how kind they are to give some of that goodness to me. ❤︎

tall and skinny trees

covered from root to tip in leaves

scaling mountains as far as you can see

Oh! how I wish It to be us, how I wish to have gone through simple day to day things with you, how I wish to cook for you, do your laundry, sing you songs, fold your shirts, cut your nails, do your skincare, make a home, do the taxes, make the budget, make some children and plan the whole life with you.

-msr

paramore’s performance of last hope at bonnaroo 2023 was life changing for me and i think we all moved on a little too fast

dead on the street

I severely dread grocery shopping. It reminds me of how I am a living being that must take care of itself. Even when my mind is clear as can be (which, frankly, isn't very), grocery shopping generates so many useless thoughts that don't stop bouncing around my skull like pissed off ping pong balls. That's too many calories. That's not enough protein. You can't justify that much money, you'll never even eat it. That expires in less than two weeks, it'll kill you. Those people just watched you stare at sliced cheese for five and a half minutes. Why don't you just get the same thing as always? You're sick of it already? Of course you are. Don't get that, you won't even cook it. You hate cooking. No, you won't cook it, and you know that. You're too lazy. No chips. No chocolate. You can't spend $6 on a gallon of iced coffee, but you can spend $10 a day each morning at Dunkin'. No, you won't eat that. Go ahead, put it in your basket, it'll sit in the fridge for the next eight months. And so on.

I left Target with less money and somehow even less confidence. A wave of utter upset hit me as I sat in my car. But drive I must.

The drive down a smooth road rimmed with foliage and the sound of my current favorite songs wash away the upset for a few minutes. Up ahead on the bend, I see a bird flutter down from the greenery, and swoop under the car about 30 yards ahead of me. The car does not break or swerve, as they probably didn't even see it. But then the car passed, and left behind was the bird. Belly-up. Flapping its wings but getting nowhere. Suddenly, seconds turned to minutes. There were no oncoming cars, so I respectfully drove around the victim. I moved back to the right side of the road, and slowed, looking wide-eyed into my rear-view mirror. There it was, still laying on its back, flapping its wings. I slowed more, and started to pull off the road. But within seconds, I made the decision not to stop.

I continued driving. In just one second, I thought of all my options. If I pull off, it might be dangerous for me. I'm clumsy, and I don't trust other drivers not to hit me. If I picked it up, I couldn't take it home. I'd want to. But there's nothing there for the bird, its late in the evening, and I can't afford a vet bill, and I have no idea how to care for it. I could put it on the side of the road. But it's already got one wing in the grave. The chances of a predator coming for it are higher than ever. If it doesn't die from the complications of the impact, a larger animal is sure to eat it. And I feared I would end up sitting on the side of the road with this bird for the rest of its life. I would, if I could. If I could abandon all reason I'd run off with the bird, heal it, and live in the woods with it. But I'm going 40 miles per hour down a two lane road with no shoulder or side walk. So I keep driving.

And to think, I get so worked up about grocery shopping. If that bird's life was so precious, I would have helped it. If my life weren't so precious, I'd leave it. If we were equals, there would be no hypotheticals. Hours later, I'm still wondering who's life is worth more: a robin that was hit by a car, or a 21-year-old teenager that can't figure out how to take care of herself.