#like it doesn’t really matter that I’m poor yk? obv I’m lucky to have parents who will let me back in (even if every time I move out I get

[edge-oftheworld]

and in the end it was to how lucky I am to live in obscurity. for the fact that I can post weird shit on Instagram or change my pronouns at any time and no one’s gonna criticise me or speculate to any real degree. I might be broke and unemployed and burnt out but no one cares what my mental and physical capabilities are. I can simply exist. I can study and write music and be a little too obsessive about recycling and I can run 20k in a week or zero, no one is keeping track. I don’t have funds to travel except for on the train that costs pennies but I meet new people every day and I can tell them the truth about my life or I can lie and it doesn’t matter, because no one’s going to cross check what I’m saying. I can cry at the bus stop or in the car. I can rest when I need to (bearing the financial consequences). no one judges me for living cheaply or whether or not I eat meat or drink alcohol. no one says my bikini is too revealing or I don’t have enough sex to be worthy or I’m too passionate about climate change.

Because no one cares about me that much unless I let them in, and that’s a beautiful thing. I’m not lonely while being known by everyone. People get the real me or not at all. And I want to thank everyone who helped show me this—in a world where everyone wants to be rich, have a bigger platform—I’ve done a lot actually, educating about neurodiversity with my 1000 facebook friends who have a real relationship with me and aren’t scared to ask personal questions and I don’t need 100 000 followers to do any of this. I don’t need any more money to my name than what can afford a tiny room in a sharehouse, public transport, food and vet bills and I am so incredibly incredibly lucky

looking back on the past year it was really funny of me to be like ‘open eyes right at 23 hehe’ and never specify what I was opening my eyes TO