I rather talk to the living because…

… (Benevolent) dead people (except my granny because she’s feisty like me) are always so fucking happy all the time.

Like look I get it; You are dead and having a grand ole time watching me struggle. You don’t want me to struggle but hey…Only so much you can do, right?

If you have something to tell me…

For the love of God and everything good and holy…

Don’t fucking yell supportive shit like:


In my right ear so loud it bolts me out of bed immediately causing a panic attack because I thought I was going crazy (or crazier) or that a spirit was camping out in my bed!

Fucking not cool.

It was Erik or Matt. Idk or care who it was actually. It’s probably good I don’t know. It ruinedy sleep. In fact I was able to go back to sleep but I didn’t feel rested. When I don’t feel rested I can be short and grouchy because it’s hard to person properly and all I can think of is how tired I am. Caffeine is a whole other shitshow (literally).

When I panic I cannot talk to dead people or living people. So instead of caring about who it was, since it was words of encouragement, I did my breathing exercises and focused on just getting back to sleep. If this ordeal happened to someone else or someone who isn’t me or uptight, I can see it being funny. But for me it was quite the opposite. While I am grateful for the loud words of wisdom, I wish it wasn’t at my most vulnerable position and so loud in my ear!

😘💕 Good night loves!

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