#badmetaphors

[strangecocoa]

Guess I got tired of running. Maybe the wolf chasing me wasn't really a wolf, but a big, snuggly husky that wants to slobber you down in kisses. Of course this husky isn't perfect— tears up your couch while you're at work, sings the song of her people at 3am when you're trying to sleep, and isn't 100% housebroken. By the way, I'm not good at metaphor. I just know that after almost 3 years of raw dogging existence without psychiatric medication, including the death of my mother this past spring, one is better off just taking the fucking things. It's only day one, so stay tuned.

[lotrlvr]

my mom just referred to taking a shit as “dropping the kids off at the pool” to my sister who is now hysterical..so i’ve got that going for me

[isuffersoyoudonthaveto]

he was staring at her as if she was Gettysburg and he was Robert E Lee.

Everywhere and Every Way by Jennifer Probst

[freudbashingfanclub]

I feel like basically, the cleanness of my room is connected to my mood. Am I in a wonderful mood, my room will be clean and tidy, except maybe scraps of fabric from projects I'm making. The shades will be open along with the door. Then, as the enthusiasm drops, my room will become more and more of a mess, until it hits a certain point, to when I then clean up again. But lately my room has hit a whole new level of mess. There is stuff on the floor and clothes on the couch and I can't see my desk for paperwork. This coincides with my mood reaching a low it hasn't reached in years. Even though I cleaned up for guests, it wasn't really clean. Just tidied. I've been feeling like it just wasn't worth it. Luckily, I think I've confronted the cause of my sadness and dealt with it in the best way possible. All I needed was to clear things up. It's the silence and the unknown that kills me. If all goes well, I may even clean my room this weekend. As well as my mind.

[oldmaneloquent]

I am terrible at this whole romance thing. Christ. Like I know how to act when everything is solid, that's second nature. But getting there? Might as well be navigating the Canadian wilderness.

[achanceofrain]

Every time I'm headed somewhere Anywhere I end up shipwrecked Washed up on shore broken and Dilapidated Bleached beyond recognition by the Same sun I had chased right into Those damned waters and for the Life of me I can't seem to remember How to swim.

[wtfmohsinhamid]

Possibly he exits the compound and makes his way to the ridge behind which he prefers to defecate, squatting low and squeezing forcefully to expel the contents of his colon. Possibly he is alone, or possibly he is not.

How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia -- Mohsin Hamid (page 7)