Getting my spark back with two stitches in my back

Spiritually xanaxed out and philosophically proficient this week

Severe solar storm on Earth likely. Tonight? I have to look out for Aurora Borealis when I’m already feeling bloated? An emotionally charged event, supposedly. It’s really important to get your misinformation from credible sources, especially when AI imagery overload makes any webpage look like those aggressive malware popups circa 2007. Speaking of disinformation, I have been relentlessly believing in myself and my capacity for discomfort.

Someone I barely speak to DMed me a new photo of Charli xcx looking mysterious saying they “thought that was me.” All things and intentions considered, in my luteal, a compliment is something I won’t take in vain or in honesty, so it seemed they were deliberately out to hurt my feelings in some backhanded somersault way. They weren’t, of course. I’m feeling exposed and shut off at the same damn time, with two stitches in my back and a silent walk home. Take it easy, the surgeon said. I’d done a due diligence background check on him the day before to make sure his rating was good enough. My concern wasn’t his qualifications or lack thereof, but an intrusive fear that if, unfairly or not, somebody left a review that he’d subjected them to disfigurement, I have to at least know my chances. Everyone was praising him – I gave up. No horror stories of mole removal gone wrong. Fine, I’ll find elsewhere to allocate my worries.