Thank you for privately messaging me and asking how I am or what I need. I appreciate you. Thank you. Here’s the 411. After stuffing all the food in my face day 1, anger, disbelief and writing day 2, wait how long since I didn’t vote for this shit? Day 3 I woke up with the worst migraine I’ve had in years. I already had PTSD. I am doing fierce. I am doing shots of tequila. I am doing poems about oneness and revolution ain’t nothing changed. My soul is Free. Free Cascadia. Ok yeah I’m frozen. Can hardly move or breathe, in tears, where’s my weed? Im fine. A bunch of idiots elected cheeto Hitler that threatens me my kid my friends YOU. …..Maniacal laughter … tears.. cigarette… cookies … coffee… migraine… tequila… Cheetos… panic attack… tacos… dabs…. I’m fine thanks for asking. I need freedom, my sanity, and sense of safety. I have a knife, pepper spray, and anxiety. At least now I know my pepper spray is old. You could get me a new one of those. That would be helpful. That’s what I need. That’s how I’m doing.Thank you. I could also use a publisher for all the poems about all the trauma incurred from all the bullshit that gave me PTSD and a few more million allies like YOU.