Healing is fucking messy. It’s alienation. It’s detachment. It’s batshit crazy. It’s jet black inky darkness. It makes you ache for the void and the mundane. You want to quit everything. But you can’t. You won’t. Not now. No baby, not ever. Because even though it aches like the mother of all aches, you’ve changed. Underneath all the bullshit, there you are. Brand new. Born again. An angel of the earth who’s woken up for their cosmic mission. And you ain’t ever going back. And there’s more like you out there. And we’re waking up right next to you in the dark, wild one. So don’t worry about fixing any part of you and let your wicked shambles raise the goddamn roof on this whole thing.