I am afraid for her hair.
Tbh, I am not even trying to clean the emotional part of this up anymore, going on nothing but faith that it will heal. This much shakey ouch = def not sociopaths, we (all of us) are nothing but hurting humans.
When your hair grows back, it's short and in my case curly, so under my long hair are haircoils like pen springs, making the rest of the long parts stick out 🤯. That is going to be lamentable and messy until it isn't. (Metaphor.)
But I can feel too that my mother will see a butterfly or make a dirty joke or both, and there it'll be: how amazing shit is. Life. Isn't it AMAZING, Gin?
If there is $ left, I am telling nobody, letting nobody's need(s) make a claim on it. I am going to see northern lights at a spa where they put you in healing mud or whatever.
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No. All I do is bend over backwards, unspotted under the weights. |