There’s A Gay Concentration Camp In Chechnya Right Now And
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and I’m eating a salad with arugula and avocado and zucchini whilst staring at my desk, staring out the window, staring at the half-moon-shaped sofa in the condo across the street, listening to the latest atmospheric-emo song from GIRLS.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and I’m nervous about a hairline fracture on my iPhone screen turning into an Actual Crack.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and my mom texted me about doing my taxes last night, which is good because I almost forgot. I keep telling myself I would’ve done it anyway, and I know I would’ve. Definitely.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and I recently learned I’m gluten free. Or not gluten free-free, more like gluten aware. I’m gluten sensitive, as my doctor said, which sounds sort of spiritual but also means I’ve finally gotten to the bottom of this not-that-terrible-but-sort-of-annoying pain I’ve had over the last, like, year. Two days after I stopped eating bread the pain went away, which is a great feeling to have while you’re smooshing your mouth down on an avocado crescent and listening to on-trend music from a TV show.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and I wore the wrong underwear to work today, and they’re bunching.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and sometimes my life feels like it’s moving so fast, like I’m on a conveyor belt toward GOALS and LIFE and GO, and I’m usually all for it, but sometimes I want to hop off, fall down from the inertia, get fried rice at Panda Express and wander an airport listening to Room for Squares.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and I don’t love my apartment. I mean, it’s small. It’s doll-sized. If I stretch my arms and legs I can touch three walls in my bedroom at once. On good days I tell myself it’s “cozy.” A “nook.”
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and I’m trying to love myself more.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and I want to write a TV show. Something that’s funny and not-funny, something that has lots of Cool Curated Background Music, something that feels emotional and atmospheric and just right, like the feeling of walking through your hometown mall alone in a thin cotton V-neck and shorts.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and sometimes the world is too much but I can’t explain why.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and I’m losing touch with all my high school friends. I love them. I miss them. We’re growing up. Getting jobs. Getting married. Getting make-your-own salads at lunch.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and Pepsi issued an apology but can we just talk about that ad for a second, because.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and I never came out to my dad.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and Nicole Kidman deserves the Emmy for BIG LITTLE LIES.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and my friend’s three-year-old niece likes to “cheers” with asparagus.
There’s a gay concentration camp in Chechnya right now and Slack helps teams get more done.
