Maybe I'm dying ! Change in weather maybe. Broken heart ? I don't know ! Just tired I guess :( Do you think things ever really work out ? Rock and a hard place again. It's like it never ends. Maybe you just get to the point where you just stop trying. Like nothing you do ever works out or makes a difference anymore. Great ! But there's always tomorrow. Tomorrow

The old Doves song hits differently when I think about my own addiction. Work. It’s an embarrassing affliction that is often met with admiration without acknowledging its insidious impact on the individual if not addressed properly. I was reared to keep my head down, work hard. If things got rough, I worked harder. It didn’t matter if my body rebelled. I willed myself to survive at the detriment of connection with my own body and dangerous consequences. I wondered why I never felt attraction or able to date unless I was on vacation or between jobs. It’s hard to put down this inherited survival strategy passed down like a precious family heirloom. It’s hard to know who I am without a job. A recovering addict I suppose. Learning how to have a healthy relationship with work feels overwhelming but necessary.

when you have Major Depressive Disorder and Body Dysmorphic Disorder. All you can do is hope no one comments on the baggy hoodies you wear in the searing heat and count down until cooler, calmer autumn days.

If I don't go to the store to buy her wine, I'm a bad daughter. Yes I know things are tough, money is tight and life isn't unfolding as she had hoped, but booze isn't the answer.

I have my weak moments, and my words are referring to something different than you imagine..but you answers keep me laughing… Thank You

Years ago, after living in Van during the 90's, I moved back in the mid 00's. I lived above a strip club in mount pleasant. Most weekends there were shootings or beatings or violence of some kind in the area where yellow tape was around my building in the morning. I could hear the mice in the walls. Kingsgate was barren beside buy-low, an insurance place and a weird photo passport place by the washrooms. this was before the library or trendiness of current Kingsgate. My rent was like $500. It was a sh*tty abandoned neighbourhood where the community centre gym was in a stuffy basement without windows. There was a dollar pizza place still standing and outside the foundation and the first Slickity Jims there weren't many trendy restaurants yet. I left Vancouver and now pay $800 for a place with a balcony over looking Nanaimo. It has the same feel that mount pleasant did years ago. Yellow crime scene tape, dirty broken sidewalks and abandoned buildings. For the better part of my adult life I loved Vancouver. the 90's and 00s were amazing. But it changed. Leaving Van I realized that other places are cheap and eclectic and what Vancouver used to be.

I guess this could be said for many things post pandemic, but as a hardcore cinephile I really wonder who reviews and movie news is for anymore. As someone who has gone to the theatre since the moment they opened in 2021 I have seen darn near most films, and many streams. Reading online about the industry seems most stuff is wrong and personal opinion of people who adapted to today. Movies that get high reviews seem to always bomb now, and movies that blogs trash seem to do really well. People get paid for their online movie opinions, but I have consistently read things that are not right. I am glad though, because the doom that these paid cinephile people write would mean theatre's and politically incorrect movies would not exist anymore. Words matter though. If you are wrong 3-4 years in a row with every opinion and article on your subject matter... maybe try something new. Theatre experience since spring break of this year has been amazing and a return to normal.

For money. I need money. Money needs me. We need to keep buying stuff. Keep the economy strong. Advertisements are good. Marketing is the best. Invest in me. Invest in my company. Gut sovereignty. Free trade. Restrict culture. Exploit people. Plunder resources. Go to therapy. Heal thyself. Pay therapist. Therapist needs money. Money needs therapy.

Although I always thought I was first string… I’m starting to realize I’m not and never was. I feel like I’m a resting spot, so you can power up to continue with your real family… as they are all you care about. Too bad you don’t recognize the love around you… next life…

when you just want to give up. People don't want to hear it.