God, what to do. To say I have mind bending hallucinations while having a normal conversation is odd to some. To actively feel my womb doing things I haven’t felt since I was pregnant 7.5 years ago is just as mind bending as hallucinating. When the picture on the wall tells you that you need to go back to the psychward, you listen. I could talk all of you under the table. I know but few here, so does it even matter. I could give a fuck less if it does, actually. But I love this place. I am a smart, wonderful mother, with so much intense love for her ilk. I swear you want me on your side. The picture on the wall cares, anyway. Might be the autism or ADHD that I’m also dealing with. Maybe with some hormone imbalance, and living in a lightly stressful living situation. So I’m going to go back to the hospital maybe so the pictures don’t talk to me anymore? Pic of me pregnant 7.5 years ago. When I told people I was a fucking Princess. If I’m pregnant now, I’m a fucking Queen. Fucking faggots. Who needs you. I hope you talk shit and enjoy I’m letting you get away with it because I’ll be further drugged into sanity. Like I’m supposed to behave like a neurotypical. The world wasn’t made for people like me. I’d rather be high on mushrooms in a temple siphoning the Gods for the Kings to get divine information for their battles. But alas, I live in Clown World. Given that, it’s insane to be sane in an insane world. I’ll give myself that much credit, at least.