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WALK AWAY WALK AWAY WALK AWAY, I WILL FOLLOW
I’m Not Leaving Medium But I am Climbing onto the Substack Platform
Platforms. They’re not just high-heeled shoes that break your back and twist your ankle. It’s all height and sex until someone breaks a knee.
Platforms. They’re not just one of those glass slippers Cinderella “dropped” on her way out of the castle. Oh please, girl, you knew exactly what you were doing. That’s like leaving your sexiest bra at your ex-boyfriend’s apartment. You’ll pick it up when you’re good and ready but you’ll be damned if new girl and old boy don’t fixate on it first.
Platform. A place you walk upon and yell about shit you feel passionate about. Like “I hate kale” or “Beware the ides of March. They’re fattening”.
Platform. A declared political party! Like an autocracy or a group of organizers entirely made up of water-loving cats.
Platforms. Online places where people avoid IRL but love the URL. So many acronyms. Where we write and find each other through writing and ideas. Sometimes they pay us. Sometimes we pay them. Sometimes both. Sometimes, we have no idea what’s happening.
Platforms. As we speak, this one that I’m writing on, from my kitchen table that…