Without divulging too much about my own mental health, I can at least safely say that Milk inside a bag... is eerily relatable and arresting for me. Metatext aside, I think it adequately achieves what it sets out to do for a very specific subset of people who in turn have processed their own traumas in a very specific way. I don't feel comfortable rating it because it's so personal and so affecting for me. I understand the sense some might get that this glorifies mental illness in some regard, and I even agree in part, but I think some of that is going to be inevitable when trying to transmit a piece of yourself for wider consumption. These things necessarily need to be gussied up due to the limits of language and the lived human experience. My red is not the same as your red. Maybe I wouldn't be as fond of it if I couldn't relate, it's impossible to say.

I was going to trauma dump but that's not fair to myself or to anyone else. The fact of the matter is I don't have to explain why this resonated with me. I am grateful this is (mostly) not my life anymore, but it certainly was my lived experience.

A day of my life in a day of my life in a day...