see ya

[inkskinned]

literally just a dumb unorganized list of school tips

source: im a grad student. i’ve had a lot of school. also i’m adhd & mentally ill and require +8 organization. this is mostly directed @ college students, but maybe high school students can use it too, fuck, idk, it’s been forever since i was stuck in that hell hole

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[oceans]

“I have done nothing all summer but wait for myself to be myself again —”

— Georgia O’Keeffe, in a letter to Russel Vernon Hunter, from Georgia O’Keeffe: Art and Letters (via luthienne)

[learnjp]

when did the Japanese start eating eggs? a long たまご.

[boomsomeknowledge]

for dumbasses like me who don’t speak Japanese

[svinto]

i wish there wasn’t such a stigma around being proved wrong, bc it’s a part of life, no one can be right all the time. if we didn’t feel as much shame about it i think a lot of things would change a lot faster

[feminismandhappiness]

we all need to practice saying “I hadn’t thought of it like that” “I hadn’t seen it that way before” “I must have misunderstood the first time I heard about it” “if I had known those facts I wouldn’t have thought like I did”

[goldpiilot]

Visit Original Link

[honeybearie]

[ablogofnature]

[lesnmpheas]

Where are you from?

second star to the right and straight on til morning

[kellmichele]

the universe has a crazy way of working out and right now i need to just trust that

[inkskinned]

i want to die, love. i’m sorry i unrolled my shoulders and burdened you with this. i just don’t know who else to turn to but a stranger with too much ink in their blood and too little time on their hands. it hurts. so much.

truth be told, it does hurt. 

the last few months have been some of the best of my entire life. I’ve been happy in this unbreakable way that seems impossible. i keep waking up waiting for the other shoe to drop.

it has taken me a bit to notice the shoe has dropped, i just know how to catch it.

the last months - euphoric, impossible, so full of love and light that it feels like a poem and not my real life - were also full of anger, sorrow, anxiety that kept me up into the night. and the loss of my hands. the loss of my writing.

it’s just that the things that used to stop me before don’t stop me anymore. it’s that i know if i am patient, the panic attack peters out. it’s that i know how to hold onto life even when life is a wisp of a thing.

everyone - myself included - always says it gets better. how fragile that sounds when you want to die. i remember reading it and thinking when!  i remember thinking: but what is “it”? yes, my life in general got better. but for that to happen? i had to get better first. and you get better. only in mental illness do we promise our patients a vague future where perfection reigns. with my hands failing me, i am not promised something vague. instead, i am given day-by-day instructions for managing pain. i am given the promise it will be managed, but only by my ministrations. 

hope is not vague. hope is real and it is another four-letter word. it is work. you get better. start with the small things. small enough they feel silly. the simple day-to-day struggles. fix that one poster that hangs to the side. get a night light. listen to a new song every day. find a schedule. no, scratch that. force yourself to have a schedule. write it down. if that schedule is simply “10:00 AM - get out of bed to stretch”, it is a schedule. 

hope is not vague. i know so many people who tell me: okay. i don’t want to be alive but i don’t want to die but i also don’t not want to die. the snake that eats itself. i cannot tell you “don’t worry, one day you won’t feel like that!” because even i, telling you that, sometimes find myself idly thinking about stepping into traffic. more and more often i’m surprised by it - and i was once so used to this constant undercurrent. but death is not hope. death is the end of hope. the long-sleep that you actually yearn for - that ending of trouble, of tired, of every day the same day… it cannot come from death. 

it can only come from hope. i know because i am not tired anymore. every day is still, sometimes, the same day. but i am awake in a way i have never been awake. i am present in the moment when the moment comes and my heart actually real-life feels love. it took me 12 years of constant work to get here. 12 years of hope. 

i can’t tell you what hope you should have, only that you have it. even if you don’t feel it, some part of you has it. not a vague you, you, because you wrote me this, and if you took the time to tell someone, some part of you wanted to admit to it. to be told: i come from where you are. don’t die. not yet. not today. we have too many things to make together. we have too many things to do. our bucket lists (still unwritten for me - i never expected to live long enough to finish one) need to be full. we have to put our feet into every ocean, we have to make cute sunscreen tan line tattoos, to write our book, to sell our first band cd, to make art that makes someone cry, to help people. to be alive for our sister’s wedding, to be happy when our dog comes home, to save the cat when he got his claw caught again. without us - you, you, you, and me - think of how many people will go unhelped, how many animals unsaved, how many gardens unwatered. how many books unread, walks untaken, setting suns unseen. 

my friend once said to me “every morning i wake up sad, i make myself waffles, because that day could be the best day of my life, and if it is, it needs to start with waffles. and every time i am sad in the afternoon, i just restart the 24 hours and make myself waffles. no matter what time of day it is, the next day can start then. and sometimes i have waffles for all 3 meals. but then it is the next day. and i can start again.”

tomorrow might be the best day of your life. hope is in you.

please keep living.

[tsptsptsp]

from “sometimes i wish i felt the side effects” by Danez Smith, Poetry Magazine March 2018

[x192]

[macrolit]

Giveaway Contest: We’re giving away fifteen vintage paperback classics by Edgar Allan Poe, J.D. Salinger, Aldous Huxley, Nevil Shute, Shakespeare, and others! Won’t this collection look lovely on your shelf? :D To win these classics, you must: 1) be following macrolit on Tumblr (yes, we will check. :P), and 2) reblog this post. We will choose a random winner on May 20, at which time we’ll start a new giveaway. And yes, we’ll ship to any country. Easy, right? Good luck!

[macrolit]

We’re choosing a random winner in two days, so reblog now! And yes, you can reblog this up to five times. :)

[denisvilleneuve]

u like boys or girls?

doesn’t matter cos no one likes me back

[queerbratsummer]

this is bi culture

[qiauxi]

“Let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Sensible Thing (via sarahs-delights)

[fromanotherroom]

Visit Original Link

La Vie En Rose playing from another room Edith Piaf

[paxvenezolana-deactivated201711]

Me standing on a gorgeous stone balcony outside of a grand ballroom, breathing in some fresh air because the fumes of the champagne and the loud joyous noise gave me slight sensory overload. The wind beautifully moves my gown.

[fuckscooter]

we need carbs and we need fats and we need proteins and honestly fuck diet culture for normalizing malnourishment