Well-meaning text messages, forwarded snippets of wisdom and thoughts conveying strength and support.
Nice.
It’s the thought that counts, or at least that’s what they say. But personally, when you’re on the verge of/delicately-dipped your toes-testing the waters of taking that full-on plunge to freak-outdom, I’d rather they save the crappy-caring thoughts until I am actually able to feel it. Because now they just bounce from this metal cast-plate on my chest, like Superman facing a bullet.
Plunk.
The sound it makes falling to the ground.
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