Ik I’m mostly a reblog bro but I’m gonna start posting the weird philosophical shit I think of when I’m stoned and sad.
Sometimes you literally need life experience to understand something. Like idk it’s crazy to me, I could say “Enjoy the little things” to someone struggling w mental health and I know it would not help them at all, cuz I’ve been in that situation.
I’ve also been in the situation where I’m arranging small colorful trinkets from my childhood or just looking at them, touching them, remembering their texture and how much joy they brought me as a child just by being there, even if I didn’t really play with them. I touch the curly hair of an MLP makeover doll I got when I was 9 and poor and I’m wondering where all her hair accessories went off to, if they’re still in the house I grew up in and if they’ll ever meet another little girl who’ll paint them with nail polish and use them for her Barbies.
Then you like. Realize, “holy shit I’m enjoying the little things” and it blows your whole mind. It’s a feeling you’ll only truly be able to understand if you’ve found yourself doing it.
Anyways being mentally ill brings you to odd places
