here’s my problem with the “crazy pre-menstrual chick” trope: i know i’m being crazy. i’m painfully aware that i am an emotional wreck. and i know why! there is zero mystery here. but there’s nothing i can do about it. my left brain can’t rationalize the situation. so i’m stuck bursting into tears and having one existential crisis after the other until i see that smudge of blood on my underwear and can move on with my life.
Amen prayer hands emoji
Are we really even crazy?