paige elizabeth @blurrystump - Tumblr Blog

listen, I make some bad choices but that doesn’t make me a bad person. i’m going to turn this blog into something that normal, everyday people can RELATE TO. no secrets. no censorship. everybody needs a place to be 100% vulnerable and I am going to create that.

#i can relate #mental health #personal

dogposts

this doggo brought the umpires water between innings

dogposts

ACTUAL VICIOUS PITBULL ATTACK.

koriand

jarofblades

i would give literally just about anything to stop catastrophizing and to get rid of all of the intrusive thoughts.

#mental health #mental illness #catastrophizing #intrusive thoughts #anxiety #depression

dogposts

The cutest eyes (via)

ritikajyala

I lost my best friend 3 years ago- not lost as in dead but lost as in we only text each other on our birthdays now. Movies and books don't tell you that a friendship dying is like the sinking of a ship, you try to get higher and higher and hold onto the rails and unanswered texts, the captain tries to steer it to safety and salvage pieces of two broken hearts until you're left with memories of what once was. We were friends for a decade and knew each other's diaries by heart, I still remember her phone number and the way she took her coffee. Seeing her in streets is like breathing in a scent you forgot you knew but it immediately takes you back to a summer in '07.

Movies and books also don't tell you that friendships don't just end after one fight or incident, it's like the rusting of a bridge, the slow decay of flesh and bones and secrets. It took weeks, months- until one day I woke up and I realized I hadn't thought of her in a while. And I wrote a poem that day and I titled it 'The dying of a best friend' and I put all my love for her in a tiny box with my half of the matching pendant of a dolphin we had and stored them in a corner of my heart under the heading Grief. Where else can one hide unspent love?

It's been 3 years since I lost my best friend, lost as in I still carry our secrets in a tiny box but we only text each other on our birthdays.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire