My father died on my birthday last year. I saw him from outside the window of the hospital he was staying at. We didn’t have a funeral for him because of the holdup with Covid. He was cremated and I never said goodbye to him. I took to Instagram to share that it was my birthday and that my father died. A “major broadcast.” I felt so alone that day. I felt so insignificant that it was borderline dangerous. I’ve been receiving messages to make peace and let go of a lot in my life lately. Easier said than done obvi. But I’m fucking trying. I’ve been talking to folks about purpose and what mine is here on earth. And maybe it’s just to do the work. The work of healing. Of sitting quietly. Of screaming. Of walking away. Of writing. Of saying “no thank you”. Of not responding. Like whatever. I have moments where I feel really uncomfortable. And I need to listen to what that’s trying to tell me. That’s all. ID: back of cats head; tattoo of Basquiat Drawing with Cat’s dob ID: You feel disconnected because you’re in too many energies and listen to too many voices hush them. Give yourself the chance to hear yourself. More clearly that voice is the most important. ID: Basquiat Sketch from his sketchbook