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26?

I was hopeful for 25. As I'm hopeful for all my birthdays. But this year is different. I am lost. In one thousand ways. I am petrified. I am hopeless. I am numb. I am relentlessly searching for the moment where this whole fucking life thing "clicks" for me, but I'm having doubts that it ever will. I am nostalgic for my past. I am empty when looking at my future. I don't see one. I don't know one. I don't have hope for a good one. I don't even know what a good future would look like for me. I don't know if I deserve a partner in life. I don't know if I deserve the life that I want for myself. I don't know how to get there, either. I am bitter towards myself for letting go of so many good things. My marriage. My friends. My time. My self. My space. I am a shell. And nothing more. Are people supposed to have life plans? When do things line out? I feel like I'm now the friend amongst my peers with no sense of direction, no sense of purpose. I'm tired of giving giving giving giving giving of myself with little to no thanks. I'm tired of stretching myself thin for other people. I'm tired of living with someone who makes me feel lesser. I'm tired of being walked over. I'm tired of being taken for granted. I'm tired of being taken advantage of. I'm tired of giving so many things to so many people and hardly getting anything in return. And that makes me sound selfish as hell. That I must receive back what I give in order for fairness or my joy or whatever. But that's not it. My spirit is crushed. My mind is battling. I empty myself to help those around me to the point that I am a weak fragment of who I once was. And maybe this is 4:00am talking. Maybe this is legs sore from walking all day talking. Maybe this is depression talking. Maybe maybe maybe. I am not happy. I do not see myself becoming happy. I do not see my life becoming anything more than it is now. And if not, what's the point? I am alone. I am fucking exhausted. I am afraid. I do not want to be here.

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Bon Iver | I Can’t Make You Love Me

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me: *watches criminal minds for 9 hours* anything: *makes a noise* me: I’m looking for a white male between the ages of 25-45 probably a loner probably most definitely hates women probably drives a red late model dodge truck probably lives alone his moms name is Helen and his favorite color skittles are the red ones

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SCOTLAND. Glasgow. 1980. Raymond Depardon

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bled

How strange it is to exist. Here. Right now. In this wholly imperfect glimpse of time. To delight in laughter surrounded by other souls inhabiting this earth for this mere instance. Shared in moonlit evenings and sun drenched afternoons. Between cups of coffee or cans of beer. To feel full, complete, between seconds of the echo of cars on the highway and the melody of covers everyone knows played by aspiring fingers on an old guitar. To cry in the arms of brothers, blood shared with ancestors who thrived thousands and thousands of moons ago. Millions of stars dying. Millions of lives beginning, happening, ending. To feel is to live. To fold is to die. Each breathe in and out is the choice to accept this life. To grasp to it, to cling to its flightiness, its no guarantee policy. To hope, beyond all hopes, that it is kind. And to find, in the depths of the depths of ones soul, that this life is our greatest responsibility and somehow the grandest gift we will ever receive. And we have to treat it as such. With an abundance of gratitude. And care.

What a miracle it is to be here now. What a gift!

#personal #idk #life #thoughts

“wildflowers: the first collection” now available for pre-order » http://bit.ly/wldflerscllctn

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meepface

i stress about stress before there’s even stress to stress about

My coping mechanisms for how friggin busy and stressful this month is: Too many cigarettes Lots of shots Binge watching Gilmore Girls

wordsnquotes

I firmly believe in small gestures: pay for their coffee, hold the door for strangers, over tip, smile or try to be kind even when you don’t feel like it, pay compliments, chase the kid’s runaway ball down the sidewalk and throw it back to him, try to be larger than you are— particularly when it’s difficult. People do notice, people appreciate. I appreciate it when it’s done to (for) me. Small gestures can be an effort, or actually go against our grain (I’m not a big one for paying compliments…), but the irony is that almost every time you make them, you feel better about yourself. For a moment life suddenly feels lighter….

Jonathan Carroll (via wordsnquotes)

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Joanna Keler

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Most of my life has been spent trying to shrink myself. Trying to become smaller. Quieter. Less sensitive. Less opinionated. Less needy. Less me. Because I didn’t want to be a burden. I didn’t want to be too much or push people away. I wanted people to like me. I wanted to be cared for and valued. I wanted to be wanted. So for years, I sacrificed myself for the sake of making other people happy. And for years, I suffered. But I’m tired of suffering, and I’m done shrinking. It’s not my job to change who I am in order to become someone else’s idea of a worthwhile human being. I am worthwhile. Not because other people think I am, but because I exist, and therefore I matter. My thoughts matter. My feelings matter. My voice matters. And with or without anyone’s permission or approval, I will continue to be who I am and speak my truth. Even if it makes people angry. Even if it makes them uncomfortable. Even if they choose to leave. I refuse to shrink. I choose to take up space. I choose to honour my feelings. I choose to give myself permission to get my needs met. I choose to make self-care a priority. I choose me.

Daniell Koepke (via wordsnquotes)