You remember that old Plymouth we just couldn’t fix?

I am a volcano. I keep the pressure of molten rock under my surface until a seismic event of various magnitudes causes it to rupture forth in a wave of heat and ash. My temper can blot out the sun. It can turn summer into winter, yadda yadda yadda. Metamorphic er, metaphorically speaking?

Jules Tavernier Tutt'Art@

That’s one trait that I wish I didn’t have. I wish I was one of those people who could utilize healthy outlets for all the shit life hands them instead of bottling it up and causing many Pompeii-esque catastrophes in both my personal and professional lives. Time is of the essence in these situations and most of the time I can physically remove myself from the stressor, but in cases where I cannot… BLAMO!

When I took an introductory psychology course in university, I remember that one of the modules made mention of a book called WHY ZEBRAS DON’T GET ULCERS. It touches on the body’s fight or flight responses as well as explaining the differences between how certain species respond to high stress environments and how we humans have the wonderful added cognitive power to PERCEIVE AND WORRY RELENTLESSLY ABOUT EVERYTHING until we make ourselves sick and die.

You’d think it would be the other way around. Us, so high on the food chain vs them, our herbivorous prey. I never thought I’d be jealous of a grazing land mammal, but I really am!

I often wonder why I handle things so poorly compared to others I know. I also stress out over really dumb things. I remember when I was 7 I tearfully confided to my uncle after watching The Simpson’s episode about Homer having a heart attack that I was pretty sure that my heart was also gonna explode right outta me because I was having those good ol’ benign childhood growing pains. A 7 year old otherwise healthy girl should not even have organ malfunction on her radar. At least NOW as an adult my anxieties and worrisome thoughts make a bit more sense and are way more valid.

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I think my next tattoo is gonna be an elaborate cursive piece that says “Don’t sweat the small stuff”. I’m also gonna situate it on my ass, which isn’t small by any means, but is certainly sweaty. I think everyone should have at least one funny tattoo on their posterior to brighten the day of the medical personnel or morticians that will one day be privy to view it.

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