I dropped the H-bomb. Took all those people by surprise. Suddenly and without warning, vanquished all their lives. Well, I clear-cut the Amazon. Pushed all those tribal peoples out. Replaced all that ancient vegetation with soya beans and cows. It was me you should be angry at. It was me this whole time. I fueled the slave trade. I need more tin, tungsten, tantalum, and gold. How else would these cell phones and TVs be made and sold? I dumped the plastic in the sea. Eight million tons or so per year. Where else was that shit supposed to go? Certainly not here. It was me you should be angry at. It was me this whole time. (Wow. Thank you so much for sharing this information and for holding this space today. I am going to unequivocally accept everything you’ve just told me as fact. Proof and explanations are not necessary when sharing your trauma. It must have been exhausting putting in all of this emotional labor. Because of that, I consider my listening to you an emotional tax that I will pay willfully and with glee. So, take all the time you need. I see you. I hear you. And you are valid.) I shit the bed, Mom. Would you kindly clean this mess up, please? Sorry for the note, I had somewhere to be. But it was me. Me, me, me.
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