I’m Your Therapist and I’m Going to Cure Your Depression with a Lecture on the Brain
Many respond just as you have, with eyes glazed over with astonishment and mouths agape, almost asking to be fed more knowledge.
Many respond just as you have, with eyes glazed over with astonishment and mouths agape, almost asking to be fed more knowledge.
Have you tried burping? What about being burped? It’s okay to be small and fragile sometimes. Or all the time.
Now that I’ve got maximum hold of the floss, I will dig it into your gums so hard that your teeth feel loose.
Since Pink Eye is usually thought of as a children’s illness, there is a level of grossness that comes with admitting you have it.
The haunted attic-tested formula will have you back to browsing through buttermilk-colored paperbacks in as few as 30 minutes.
My god, are my mornings agonizing! But it’s all worth it. The ice shards in the body wash act as an exfoliant and all day long my skin radiates.
A salad? After Labor Day? I don’t think so. I passed the salad place and said to myself, “Not today. Today is Tuesday. Tacos.”
If your therapist asks you whether Jason is your father, calmly explain that he’s your college friend’s old roommate.
Soon we'll live in a world where Neuralink will let us surf the internet just by thinking about it and bleeding from our eyes.
After an extensive journey of self-learning which some have called a “downward spiral,” it is obvious this agony is a rare inoperable cystic cancer.
I'll never forget how safe you made me feel, the way you blocked the SGLT2 found in the proximal tubules of nephrotic components in my kidneys.
Feelings of guilt and shame will give you the boost you need to keep on crunching. Your core will thank you!