40,000 years ago, early humans painted hands on the wall of a cave. This morning, my baby cousin began finger painting. All of recorded history happened between these two paintings of human hands. The Nazca Lines and the Mona Lisa. The first TransAtlantic flight and the first voyage to the Moon. Humanity invented the wheel, the telescope, and the nuclear bomb. We eradicated wild poliovirus types 2 and 3. We discovered radio waves, dinosaurs, and the laws of thermodynamics. Freedom Riders crossed the South. Hippies burned their draft cards. Countless genocides, scientific advancements, migrations, and rebellions. More than a hundred billion humans lived and died between these two paintings—one on a sheet of paper, and one on the inside of a cave. At the dawn of time, ancient humans stretched out their hands. And this morning, a child reached back.
i think names are such a delicate thing and we dont say each other’s names enough bc why else does it strike such a chord in me when ppl say my name as if i actually exist
every time you assume that others are thinking negatively of you or judging you behind your back, you are bullying yourself through them. at the end of the day, you don’t know what thoughts are running through their heads unless they verbally express them to you. until then, every one of ‘their’ opinions about you is nothing more than your fear, and whatever assumption is born from your fear is yours to let go - not theirs to disprove.
