the fun thing about having a mental health crashout in your thirties is that sure yeah you're crashing out, but at the same time there's a part of you standing across the room smoking ben affleck style, going yeah yeah you're crashing out. you crashed out before you will crash out again can we wrap this up yet. and the most annoying part about it is that they're right, and that that does Not stop you from crashing out even a little. love and light on planet earth.
me, strongly dissociating, staring into space:
cunt-ass part of my brain swigging whiskey from across the room: yeah yeah you're not real we get it. that's not gonna get the dishes done and the trash taken out tho is it 🤨
