Dys-

You’re all fucking me up mentally. That’s exactly it. I can’t take it anymore. My brain cannot psychologically endure anymore bullshit. So my body shuts down, reacts abnormally on its own because it doesn’t want to think, to tolerate, talk and solve. I break apart instead.

And I think other people need to calm down as well. Be nicer.

Otherwise, it’s like filling a glass to the top, and you don’t stop, so it overflows. People keep dumping and dumping and I can’t hold it anymore.
I felt like blowing my own brains out. I’m gonna have a stroke or a heart attack by 20.

I’m just going to continue to avoid and ignore the people I don’t need in my life, even though they persist in seeking me out and screwing with me anyway.

Can’t wait to leave that place.

Life works. It just does.

Chilly, rainy late nights. The timing of when photos are uploaded. Motions.

It’s all coincidence.
I’ve learned to let life happen. IT moves ME.

how to be a writer

• start to write something
• pause and read over what you have so far
• cringe
• backspace everything
• exit out of your computer
• cry on the floor

(Source: interrobang-ler, via cadburycrazed)

I should be happy.

I just realized that I’m trying to define freedom, and I can’t.

I don’t think it’s possible.

Anonymous asked: i love how i can relate to most of your post. you speak your mind so freely. i wish i knew how to put everything in words so well.

I’m glad you can, and thank you! Come off of anon! Let’s chat!

The best part of becoming a reporter is you can hide behind your notebook. Everything is always research.

Palanhiuk

The trick to forgetting the big picture is to look at everything close-up.
The shortcut to closing a door is to bury yourself in the details.
This is how we must look to God.
As if everything’s just fine.

Palanhiuk

Theres something so serene about warm weather. Wide open windows, floating curtains. Lawn mower noise and the smell of fresh cut grass. The soft hum of a fan.

If only everything was this peaceful.

“…that’s you.”

In other news, people have begun to severely irritate me. I hate it when you touch me, I hate it when you push me, I hate it when you draw on me, I hate it when you talk to me, I hate it when you stand there with that dumb fucking smile of yours and stare at me, expecting me to say something back to you. I hate your fucking sparkly shoes. I hate it when you ask me stupid questions, I hate it when you follow me around everywhere. I fucking hate everything every one of you do.

And I don’t freaking know why, but it all makes me nauseous.

Nothing ever bothered me before.

apoetreflects:

It was disconcerting, downright frightening
To be reminded of one’s solitude,
Like opening a children’s book—
With nothing better to do—reading about stars,
How they can afford to spend centuries
Traveling our way on a glint of light.

—Charles Simic, closing strophe to “My Noiseless Entourage” from My Noiseless Entourage (Harcourt, 2005)