Dealing With My Anxious Mind.

[faustique]

soul card never declines

[feastuponthis]

[i-have-good-taste]

[tinajeena]

The Weight You Asked For

There were days so empty they echoed, rooms full of time and no one calling your name.

You sat with silence like it was something personal, like loneliness had chosen you on purpose.

You called it a “wasted life” just because it was quiet

Now look your calendar is screaming, your phone won’t stop blinking, your promises have multiplied like they didn’t come from you.

Because they did.

You said yes to feel needed. You said yes to not feel small. You said yes because “maybe this fixes it.”

And now every yes sits on your chest like it never learned how to breathe.

You want out but not in a way that disappoints. You want rest, but not in a way that looks like failure.

So you stretch yourself thinner, call it “being responsible,” call it “adulthood,” call it anything but what it is

fear dressed up as commitment.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: you weren’t empty before, just unfamiliar with stillness.

And you’re not overwhelmed now because life is unfair you’re overwhelmed because you tried to outrun yourself by becoming everything at once.

Time didn’t betray you. It just showed you that you don’t know how to sit in either extreme.

Not the quiet. Not the noise.

And maybe that’s the real work not fixing loneliness, not conquering busyness,

but learning how to exist without turning either into a crisis.

[thememedaddy]

[tinajeena]

I think I have been disappearing in slow motion my whole life. Not dramatically but just quietly, like breath on cold glass. I grew up believing love was a room I already belonged to, but somehow I am always standing near the door, holding my own hands so no one notices they are empty. My parents are alive and that is a blessing I carry carefully but what is the shape of a blessing when you cannot rest your head in it at night? Distance stretches like a punishment no one explains. I left to build a life, and instead I built an ache. Friends once knew the softest parts of me. We promised forever the way children promise without understanding how fragile forever is. Now their lives move on without my shadow in them. I scroll past proof that I was replaceable. Tell me, how do you grieve people who are still alive? How do you mourn friendships that did not die, but simply chose a world where you were unnecessary? I search myself like a wound, wondering what defect makes love loosen its grip. Was I too heavy to hold? Too honest? Too hungry for something that was never mine? And sometimes I think about the grandparents I never had not with longing, but with suspicion. Would their hands have rested on my head or hovered politely above it? Would love have finally chosen me, or would I still be the extra chair at a crowded table? I am tired of being grateful and grieving in the same breath. Tired of carrying a heart that keeps asking if it was born only to endure. If this is life, why does it feel like I am rehearsing it alone learning my lines in an empty room, waiting for someone to say, “You were never meant to survive this quietly.”

[sadgirlstitches]

[duke-bane]

My stupid puppy life

[tinajeena]

Hold the Last Bite

Recently, I had warm bread in my hands, and warm roti that puffed up like pride soft, golden, almost breathing.

Seven years away from home and I still cook first, clean first, wipe the counters, fold the cloth, so I can eat in peace. So no one can say I left a mess behind.

I have always been the one who takes the burnt edge, the crust, the bad sides of the pizza chewing through the rough so I can save the soft middle for last.

I call it patience. I call it discipline. But maybe it is just habit this art of postponing joy.

I save the best bite like a goodbye. I save the best dress for an occasion that never quite arrives.

Somewhere between childhood n 28, I became careful. Careful with happiness. Careful with noise. Careful with wanting too much.

I used to think growing up meant freedom late nights, loud laughter, wearing silk just because

Now it feels like standing in a clean kitchen, hands smelling of soap, bread cooling on the table, telling myself “I’ll enjoy it properly later.”

But later is slippery. Later forgets to knock.

And I wonder what if the best part was never meant to be saved? What if the soft center was always mine to bite into first?

At 28, finally grown, I am learning how to sit down before everything is perfect. How to eat the warm roti while it’s still warm.

How to wear the dress even if the only witness is me.

[perfeqt]

“Forget what you were, and look forward to what you could be.”

— Nicole Sager

[latelyimanervouswreck]

Im thinking about suicide a lot these days

[free-my-mindd]

Forgive yourself

[oldgayjew]

Very wise words ...

[paper-wounds]

[quotefeeling]

“Working on myself, by myself, for myself.”

— Unknown

[perrfectly]

Source 

[perfectfeelings]

“Some people bring out the worst in you, others bring out the best, and then there are those remarkably rare, addictive ones who just bring out the most. Of everything. They make you feel so alive that you’d follow them straight into hell…”

— Karen Marie Moning, Shadowfever

[lifeafterpsychiatry]

Like we have commodified human connection to a degree where if you go beyond smalltalk you're oversharing and if you talk too deeply about your life you're traumadumping and if you get visibly upset you're manipulative and if you care too much you're codependent and if you want to talk about anything heavy you're expected to go hire a therapist because your friends shouldn't have to deal with that stuff and yet we're all sitting around wondering why so many people are lonely...

[bookishcaffeinedeactivated-deac]