I Can’t Breathe. I Can’t Dream.
I Can’t Even.
I want this to be a lie: some dystopian world I fell into through the back of the wardrobe closet. I want it just to be a dream. So now I guess, I equate dreams with lies, hmmm. Interesting, huh?
Maybe you know what I am rambling about, and perhaps you don’t, so let me clue you in. Let’s talk about May 2020.