My partner pronounces “star anise” as “star anus,” and it makes my life so much better.

Whenever I can’t find something for weeks on end, I know I found the perfect spot for it. Its shape and size are wonderfully accounted for, and I will never find it. I rest in the surety that it is unfindable in a shrine of perdition.

SSRIs save my life daily. They also prevent my child from falling into deep depression. Neither of us is walled off or emotionless. Both of us go to therapy regularly.

If you struggle with side effects from an SSRI, that particular formulation doesn’t work for you. It does not mean all are bad.

Prolapsing rectal abscess
Infected baboon’s ass
Decrepit orangutan corpse
Animated diarrhea monster
Carnival-food puke pile
Toxic dog fart in a small car
Engorged teratoma
Oversized period clot
Dangerously stupid bottom feeder

More appropriate endings to a phrase that started with “Long live the…”

I’m seeking comfort and connection in a state of exhaustion that makes it impossible to love as well as I should. So I love badly, and I can hardly tolerate to be badly loved without feeling unloved and unworthy of love. Uncomforted, disconnected, and more exhausted than ever, I still seek love.

It’s important to have dogs when you need unconditional love, precious cuddles, and someone to step on your boob when you’re lying down.