This is… probably going to sound completely fucking insane to almost all of you. But I'm being 100% legit honest.

I just had one of the most stupidly joyous, full, and heartfelt laughs I've ever had in my tiny little life…

…

Cos someone wrote the word "moist" in graffiti…

For context, a few days ago, there was some bizarre news story about how Prime Minister Trudeau The Second said that face masks help protect against people against people "moistly speaking".

Someone, in the last 24 hours or so, spraypainted "Moist - E.G.", on a building face…

…on Heatley, between Cordova and Powell.

And I began laughing like a fucking maniac.

In broad daylight. In full view of fucktons of strangers.

Because, somehow, that was one of the funniest things I've EVER fucking seen in my whole stupid, trivial, wasted, stupid, little life

For me, in that momemt, just now…

That was it.

That was THE thing to encapulate ALL the absurdity of our prsent situation, and everything that lies ahead.

I was SUCH a good laugh.

And now, tweeting it, I'm just as stupidly crying.

And that's fine.

It's fine.

It was SO good.

I'm not sure I've ever laughed that hard or sincerely outside the company of friends in my entire fucking life.

The thing that kills me is this SOUNDS like a story - and thread - fabricated for narrative drama, like for some dumb fucking historical drama about 2020… but…

It's not.

I had a REALLY fucking good laugh.

(Addendum: it probably sounds ESPECIALLY insincere in light of my recent interest in historical fiction. But again- it's not. NO ONE, EVER, will be reading my TWITTER ACCOUNT to reconstruct the Spring of 2020.)

* Sorry, never laughed that hard outside the company of friends without being HIGH AS FUCK, I mean. :P

Although historical fiction is probably ALSO the reason I'm so insecure about people believing me, and I should just fucking relax and appreciate a poignant moment in my own life for once, without worrying about how some assholes I don't even know might doubt it.

All those pricks from a year and a half ago being all "show us the broken glasses or it didn't happen" and then, when I DID show them, being all, "we don't apologize, it was a test, we don't believe you anyway" kinda fucked me up worse than I ever said.

The circulation in my right leg was damaged. For six months or more even the SLIGHTEST break of my skin would result in long lasting injuries, and scars. In a building with bedbugs, that was a problem.

That leg will be scarred for the rest of my life.

Never said a word about THAT.

There's a fuck of a lot I never talk about.

BARELY mentioned the assault two weeks ago.

Said nothing of the pointed misgendering two nights ago.

SO much happens I don't say…

Now I say even less than ever, cos what the fuck do these little blips mean in the present context, you know?

I don't have a point really…

I don't know…

Except MAYBE to please never to assume I'm exaggerating?

Cos I swear to fucking GOD my instinct is the exact opposite.

There's STILL serious shit I'm not telling. Not even my closest friends.

I'm going for a smoke. I'll probably delete this thread when I get back.