So I'm Going To Make A New Jacket Patch

you ever get tired of living but in a non-suicidal way

the next time i have to explain something in my own words i am just going to invent my own language

Self improvement is great but ultimately? you have to accept your self. Yes you can eat better, exercise more, read more, set boundaries, love your self, but it all comes down to this. Some days you won’t have the energy to do any of these things. And you’ll look in the mirror and think that this is not enough. That’s a lie. The biggest love for self is to live slowly. To rest. To really rest. Have a nap. Eat what makes you feel good. Read if you want to. Embrace yourself and accept that you cannot and will not be ever be perfect. Accept that you are good enough. You don’t need to keep busy all the time. you don’t need to go out all the time and post on instagram. You don’t need to journal if you don’t want to. You don’t need to make art if you don’t want to. Breathe, give yourself grace and compassion. Give yourself the love and tenderness you so badly need. Be gentle with yourself. You are trying and it is good enough. You are good enough.

unironically people need to learn to say “they haven’t done anything wrong i just find them annoying”

(This is a thought/vent poem! Aka, inspired by my own experiences)

Home.

"What is a place that you call home?"

I was asked some months ago.

To answer that inquiry I must determine

what counts as a home and what merely as a dwelling place?

Is a home somewhere you stay?

somewhere to live while you slowly decay?

Or is a home filled with laughter and joy?

With the newfound happiness of a fancy new toy?

If the answer is the latter, then what else can I say,

then "I don't think I call anywhere a home, either way."

For I don't hear laughter in either place.

I don't hear happiness no matter where I stay.

for whether I stay in the place my family owns

or the house they placed me in far down the road,

the only place that feels like home

is those fleeting moments I feel safe within a voice's tone.

But those belong to either place,

in fact, they don't really belong to any at all.

they belong to the people that live outside those houses' walls.

They belong to people who would answer if I called.

And so when someone asks me what place I call home,

I must simply tell them "There is no place I call home.

"my heart does not lie in one place or another,

"Rather it travels along with me wherever I discover,

"the closest friends someone could have."

And though this thought tears my soul

I must just understand that this is how it goes.

For a girl who finds no home within a place,

must reach for another's embrace.

unstoppable force (my anxiety) meets an immovable object (my anxiety)

it’s safe to assume that at any given moment i want to go back to bed

my favorite part of tumblr is when it goes "it's tumblin time" and then tumbles all over the place

keep waiting

wait