So apparently you can't digest beeswax so my husband has turned into a Human Shotgun that's entirely powered by gas. He says it comes in waves, so it's gas and then beeswax and then gas followed by more beeswax. I think he ate the entire beehive.
Depression is like trying to peel a potato with another potato. It's not fun, it doesn't work, and you just want to cry. And then people are like, why don't you use a peeler?! And they hand you another fucking potato.