That Feeling When you’re barely hanging on to your own life,
but then you come across some putz on one of your many social and arts media websites,
and Someone is Wrong on the Internet, so you dive in.
But then you’re left feeling hollow and not quite dejected but fed up.
And you can’t disengage – as would be healthy and reasonable – because “you’re admitting you’re wrong” to some people. Like, no?
I just don’t have to answer to some bozo who thinks minorities shouldn’t be scared of Trump (don’t fucking tell me how to feel)
or a “non-MRA, non-feminist” centrist man who thinks male privilege doesn’t exist.
I just want my damn AD(H)D meds already, without the withdrawal of duloxetine causing sweaty nightmares and body odor. Like, I’d rather I didn’t HAVE to take meds to make my brain not want to kill me, but I’m almost glad of the enforced empathy for others who do need brain meds too.