I hate living in a state where anyone can get their hands on fireworks.
Excuse
me while I spend the next 48 hours in a state of hypervigilance due to
startle response, and stifling bad Firestorm ‘03 Trauma-flashbacks from
the smell of ashes and sulfur and plastics burning.
*off to huddle under heavy blanket and weep softly*
I
don’t think I Love My Country. I wish I lived in a place that
celebrated things with music, or concerts, or folk dances, or candle
vigils. Instead of Explosives.
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