actuality

These are my travels, my journeys, my experiences and experiments in this world I am blessed to call home. Unless otherwise stated, all photos were taken by Andrea Collins. If you should feel the need or desire to share, please feel free, but give credit where it's due. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy. http://bodilyvessels.tumblr.com

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Northern California, free campground near Bear River Reservoir... cold, wintry night followed by a crisp morning

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Crater Lake, November 2016

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Going into Crater Lake National Park

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Rain 2016

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Home 2016

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Sacramento street art, November 2016

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November 2016, Grand Canyon

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Grand Canyon, November 2016

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2017 is going to be my year.

No one follows this blog, really. (Sorry, my two followers, lol ;) I still love you)

So this is a statement, an exclamation, for myself. 2017 is my bitch. I’m going to rock my body, own it, sculpt it. 2017 is the year I wear short sleeves and t-shirts and cute dresses during the summer. 2017 is the year I feel good in my own skin. 2017 is the year I accept and love myself, unequivocally. 2017 is the year I come into my own.

Fuck fear. Fuck doubt. Fuck comparisons. I am EVERYTHING I seek. 

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I know what I need to do... I know I hate this feeling, this situation, this... version of me, but if I just let it wash over me, let this feeling prolong itself into a physical state, then won’t I find happiness, eventually? Won’t I achieve the things I keep telling myself are important to me? Won’t it work this time? 

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He only texts me when he’s drunk or suicidal. I’m tired of being manipulated. My anger is deserved. Fuck being used to make someone feel wanted. If he doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t get to act like my thoughts or feelings matter whatsoever. He is using me for his ego, and I will not play a part of it. This isn’t love. He is obsessed. He needs to learn to live with himself.