Don’t you love when your brain is like “hang on I feel pretty good. Wasn’t there something I’m supposed to feel really bad about” and then it doesn’t stop searching til it remembers
i wish depression were an emergency. I wish someone could take one look at how sick I am and go “oh my god, we need to get you to a hospital!” and then when we get there I get rushed into surgery and the surgeons say “it’s a good thing you brought her here when you did, this is a seriously advanced case” and then they put me under and spend the next ten hours pulling metres of long, sticky black strands of gunk out of my body, throwing it immediately into an incinerator so that it can’t infect anyone else. And then they could stitch me back up and I could rest a few days, and when I leave the hospital everyone can see how much better I am and they congratulate me saying “well done, you’ve been so brave, I’m so glad you’re ok. I love you.
Viciada em ver e rever filmes e séries dos anos 90! Estou nostálgica com a textura da vida. As pessoas têm poros, dentes diferentes, cabelo zoado, corpo normal. Casas que parecem casas. Coisas que não parecem montadas para uma foto.
As pessoas simplesmente existem!