I was rejected today.
My blood was anyway. One pricked finger and a blood sample to tell me I was too anaemic to donate. I feel fine, but now some guy in a lab gets the excitement of examining a small container of dark red liquid from my arm, and I get to keep a pint more of myself than I really wanted.
I was thinking about morals, altruism, when I was waiting there today. It's never black and white, you can't define someone by one singular act, just as it isn't possible to understand anyone's motivation for giving their blood to a stranger. If donation is motivated by a desire to feel like a good person, is it selfless? I don't think it matters, maybe I've been watching too much doctor who, but I do love humans.
Other than me.
you let yourself go, and killed him 'cause it's beautiful to watch
I've realised how much this applies to me, my addiction to drama controls my thoughts, especially when there's nothing wrong.
Nostalgia for disaster...
:)
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