This letter is a doozy, folks. The water has been rocky by the lighthouse, dozen foot high waves crashing into the rocks, splashing into this lighthouse keeper's eyes.
Through it all, I remind myself that the lamp is lit and the light is still shining, even when things might be going sideways. I talk about my frustrations at being sold and marketed to 24/7, a collective unrest, and how being ill brings on a mental fog so dense I lost sight of myself.
This letter is for the storm-forged sailors out there–I see you, and the lamp is lit for you.
