not moving, but growing @photosynthesizer - Tumblr Blog

bettyrightnow

anxiety is so weird like why is my mental illness in my stomach

freshpickle

please be nice to me, i'm in my twenties. do you know what that does to a person

gauntletqueen

HEARTBREAKING: Poor girl has to get out of the soft warm bed even though she is so so so so comfy

juliayusupov

mydarkenedeyes

Christophe Jacrot

sweet-suggestions

Sometimes "getting better" means it hurts less to get up in the morning. Means it is a bit easier to step into the shower. Means small things make you smile again. This is okay. "Getting better" doesn't have to be giant steps. I'm so proud of you, no matter what.

11990904

bluef00t

“you talk like a smart/pretentious person” actually I just forget simple words constantly and am forced to rummage through my brain for the nearest synonym, which is usually twice as long and needlessly specific

loveletter2you

doing creative things is good for the soul you don’t even have to be good at it ‼️ ‼️ ‼️

gaycommunist

people are bad and all but when a stranger holds open a door for you and when a stranger picks up something you dropped and when a stranger smiles at you from across the street and when a stranger on a hike wishes you good morning and when a stranger hands you a rose and when a stranger lets you have their seat and when a stranger stops you to compliment your outfit and when a stranger gives you the 5 cents you’re missing and when a stranger jams their foot in the tram door so you can make it and when a stranger says bless you when you sneeze and when a stranger helps you with directions and when a stranger gets you something from the top shelf and when a stranger offers you a piece of watermelon in the park and when a stranger wishes you happy birthday because you’re holding a balloon.. maybe we are worth saving

flowerais-deactivated20211031

your future self loves you. they will look through old photos of you with affection, not disgust, nor embarrassment. they wish they could tell you stories of your future, of how much you’ll change, of the people you’ll meet, of how you’ll eventually learn to accept yourself, then love yourself. they will read your diary entries and poems and favourite lyrics, heart aching, tears in their eyes. if only you knew...

your future self loves you. if only they could show you. they are living proof. you’ll turn out okay after all. they wish they were there to console you, dance with you, and make you write it a hundred times: “I AM LOVED”. they will listen to playlists you made, just to experience you again. they will write you a letter - of forgiveness, longing, reassurance. you will never read it. but you will know.