Doing this new thing where I try to cancel out my “This person doesn’t actually like me” brain worms by activating my “It is imperative not to harm a loved one” directive with the observation “This person would feel hurt by being doubted like that”
*uterus sheds its lining and REGENERATES itself every month*
“a human organ that can self-regenerate - hmm… that’s not interesting at all, let’s never study this.”
-the medical community
The final stage of healing is becoming a fucking weirdo again. Where you’re so powerful and so free inside yourself you just don’t give a shit. It’s all art. It’s all life. It’s all beautiful. That’s the fucking point.
imagine being a dead animal on the side of the road just laying there decaying and people in cars just keep passing you and passing you and passing you and passing you and