Post Two-Hundred and Fifty

My nails are still painted black.

I still have regular panxiety attacks.

And your mom is whack.

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Haha! Just joking. Love you all, each and everyone of you. For interacting, supporting and inspiring every post I wrote after the first “like” and “follow” on Pink Starburst Anxiety.

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I needed you when I still had my mother, and I’m finding out, without you–I’m very much alone without her.

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Unmarried

I don’t make babies

I neglected my pups for his.

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Though, there is Kat–she’s a peach. Somehow our depression, anxiety and sentiments align. She reads my posts, via my Twitter account, and showers me with praises I don’t deserve, but the solidarity in her experience of similar emotions is bewildering.

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It’s easy to love.

I nearly always say it first, regardless of its validity, platonic nature or abruptness.

It’s easy to say, “I love you”. But/Because…what happens… if you don’t?

Platonic love is likely as fruitful as romantic love.

So clarify,

Love hard,

Be honest,

Be kind,

Or get the fuck out.