My nails are still painted black.
I still have regular panxiety attacks.
And your mom is whack.
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.
I needed you when I still had my mother, and I’m finding out, without you–I’m very much alone without her.
I don’t make babies
I neglected my pups for his.
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.
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.
Or get the fuck out.