I somehow got from Stephen King to silent —mostly happy, few fearful— tears about Dirk and the future and mortality.
Nothing has ever been so truly safe before; no one has ever been so secure before.
I have never felt so entirely and thoroughly confident in my interest and care for another romantic partner.
I am so free.
3:29 AM and I just wanted to read Under The Dome and I just wanted to know what intel Barbie was getting from Col. Cox and to feel the smoothness of the pages and enjoy the texture (I sometimes have texture tick-feelings, I guess) and smell the new pages and play with them and the weight of the pages and I don’t remember why I wasn’t in the first place and— the eternal punishment for not sleeping at night never ends. 3:35 AM.
Academic Ableism is being able to fail a class because of a serious illness and still be able to get financial aid.
But if you failed that class due to depression, anxiety disorders, or PTSD, then kiss your financial aid goodbye.
(I was able to successfully petition to get mine back; to what scale does approval power vary?)(there were other facets that I don’t know if they would have played out more differently if circumstances were more regarded as physical illness than are mental illnesses though…)