on self-severance

and several other ills

This all will end.

Not the world,

or the fight,

not even the work. But this shape of things. The false scaffolding that taught us to abandon what we know in our hearts and climb alone. This is the brittle version of success built on scarcity, speed, and separation. It’ll end because it must.

It is already crumbling anyway;

was always a lie. The body knows. Yesterday, I sat and ate lunch with a sisterfriend in Brooklyn, and we discussed pitching ideas and stories from the heart to Hollywood, an assembly line of yes buts, and no’s and maybe’s. She said all this doesn't feel right in the body anymore.

The body knows. The land knows. We know. We cannot achieve our dream futures alone. We cannot strive for ourselves only and expect to feel well. We can’t buy into hustle culture and expect to feel satisfied with what we have. What we have will never be enough, because the unrest remains in the body. Over-competence and hyper productivity are both measures I have employed to feel as though I mean something, to feel as though I’m worthy.