social mis-conduct

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👇🏿 ain’t got no time for that? press play for the radical radio recording ✨

the profane moments in my life after suicide follow me like an obedient golden retriever: no matter where i am, it seems, there is always a sharpened dagger of social misconduct ready to jab me when i least expect it.

there is the grocer who asks if my dads suicide is ‘messy’.

and too, the fella that comes by to purchase some bricks, when hearing of my dads passing, thinks to haggle down on the price and optimize his time in asking to buy more of my dads tools. you know, if they are for sale and all.

either may seem insignificant in the moment, though the first is simply inappropriate (we all see that, right?), and the second leaves me shocked and disturbed. while it might seem a harmless action, when standing face-to-face with someone as they barter with you and then ask about the rest of your dads belongings, weeks after his passing, it is nothing short of profane.

perhaps this is a normal reaction, to be the ‘survivor’ of the deceased, having to walk through loved ones belongings and intermingle with their dispersal. perhaps. in my experience, to receive this kind of behaviour is a kick in the shins.

let us hold a wider awareness of the intricacies in death. may we all walk forward knowing the pain, struggle, and real life consequences within the business of being dead.

to our awareness,

xxo ~k 💚

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