Someone save me from myself. Please.

It’s odd, but not even sure I have much to recover from. I just don’t think that I’m meant to live long term. Every time I think I may have broken the surface, that I might be ready to live my life and not have the constant “but why are you really doing this? what actually matters to you?” hanging over my head, I’m sucked back down. I really don’t even know exactly what or where “down” is, but it’s a terrible place at which I often find myself. I hate admitting any of my problems or how disconnected I feel from myself, so if I ever talk about anything it’s with a certain lighthearted tone as to keep myself from being taken too seriously. But I’m honestly terrified. I’m terrified of living. It just doesn’t feel worth it to me. Yet, on the other hand, death scares me even more. Because while I do hope, and believe that God is out there and watching out for us, I’m not certain how much of that faith I really hold on to anymore. Too many terrible things happen and I’ve seen so much of it with my own eyes. However, a lot of the world is also quite beautiful, and so we’re back to “I just don’t fucking know.” I suppose you could say that I’m depressed, but that doesn’t quite feel like the proper description. So for now I’ll say that I’m lost and trying to find myself, but the me I’m trying to find is dead therefore I’m destined to spend my life hopelessly searching. 



Self destructive bitch

What are you doing to yourself? You know being alone makes you sad; yet, you crave it. You plan out time to be alone. Yes, in small doses it’s good. But what are you doing? You’re literally planning a month long period where you’ll be alone and know absolutely no one. Are you trying to destroy yourself? Make yourself miserable? Do you want to get to that ledge again, do you?? 

Now…Let’s look at this through those rose tinted glasses of positivity that you like to wear.

Maybe this is all to make yourself become more social and more comfortable in social situations. Maybe you just want to meet new people and try to expand your friend base because, let’s be honest, you don’t have very many and you can’t expect the few you do have to always be there. They have lives and they don’t want to spend all of their time with you. You need to find more people that you’re comfortable with and you need to be happy with just yourself, as well. You’re not such bad company to keep. So keep up that sassy sense of humor and let’s get through this. This, at the very least, being the last 3 weeks. You can do it.

Can’t Won’t Don’t

It can’t happen again. No matter how much you want it to. You’ll be happy with someone else, I promise. One day you’ll meet the person that you are meant to be with and it will all just make sense. He loves his ex and he doesn’t even realize it. Or he just doesn’t want you. Either way is okay and you’ll be alright. Okay? So pick yourself up, dust yourself off, cry if you need to, but then build a bridge and get over it. 

Oh tumblr. bby<3

“You know. I don’t give myself enough credit. I’m pretty fricken great. I’m kinda adorable and my hair is pretty and I’m funny and silly and smart when I wanna be and -on a fair amount of medicine so maybe crazy- I’m just kinda great ok

Edit- Because who cares if I don’t have sharp angled facial features or a perfect body or if I have peach fuzz where I’d rather I didn’t. Who cares? I’m soft and round and adorable and anyone who disagrees can just go eat some dirt because I’m great. 

OOO maybe this confidence thing will last till tomorrow.”

I posted this on tumblr while I was doped up on NyQuil and possibly chamomile tea….and not doing my homework…oops. 

But you know what? This is the mindset I need to hold. This. Right here. Because I did a photo shoot with my friend for our good friend who is a photography major yesterday and it was a lot of fun! The pictures showed me at some of my less than flattering angles but they’re still good. I need to start appreciating what I do have as opposed to what I don’t and may never have. 

So very close

I was almost happy. Almost. 

It’s always an almost. 

I’m not sure that happy is a thing that is meant for me. Any ioda of happiness I get is there for a minute and then I get to watch it crash and burn. 

I knew it was going to wreck as soon as I found out you were talking to her again. I knew it. They’re just friends. They said. I promise, you don’t have to worry about her. You said. Yea? Well you all lied and now I’m hurt, sad, broken and pathetic all fucking over again. 

When will it be my turn?