"if you were polite and nice with your activism we’d listen" no you wouldn’t you fucking liars
You walk around in a badass trenchcoat, red lipstick, sunglasses, and listen to angsty Streetlight trumpet solos, and imagine yourself walking away from an explosion, one that you ignited. But really you kind of are just looking at your feet, and are a shining example of poor posture, mumbling, and aversion to eye contact
Words do no justice here. There is no proper translation to speech and it feels a betrayal to render it trite – what you’ve instilled where the loneliness used to be.