I haven’t broken anything but knuckles, to my knowledge. And even then, I’m not sure they were broken. So, I guess not?

Simply. I leave work stress at work and strive to keep my personal life out of work because I am always afraid of things like my mental illness or neurospicy tendencies being weaponized against me.

I’m not comfortable showing my hand in this particular emotional poker game. Those that truly know me know what I’ve given up for family, for self betterment, and for survival.

Most at work would likely say “leader”.

Most who know me off the clock would say “follower”.

I personally would describe myself as a wanderer.

One small improvement I can make is to keep hoping everything will be all right.

So. I have three core friends that I consider my besties: Chele, J, and Reffie. They’re all phenomenal people. Kind, wicked smart, and have all known me at least a decade now.

They have all had positive impacts on my life in their own ways.

I don’t actually know if I have a good answer to this. I’m female presenting, so there are limits to my supposed freedoms. I don’t consider myself a person of color, and POC face even harsher realities than I do just from the systemic terror placed on them.

Freedom is an illusion. One that could shatter like thinly poured isomalt, which is used for fake glass.

Honestly, not enough in my local area.

If I could do any job for a day, I’d be a bartender. I always wanted to be one growing up. I suppose that’s a carry over from Cocktail being one of my late mother’s comfort movies.