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Water Lilies 1899 by Claude Monet

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shoutout to whatever the fuck went wrong when i was kid to make me have such an oral fixation now as an adult

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Sun reflecting of the railroad tracks by Raymond Cunningham

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https://www.instagram.com/p/BMoTKM_AQ2L/

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“Chanel” by Frank Ocean

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How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful

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Produced by LEMAT WORKS

✨Twinkle Night3 15 17 18 / Stars Gold Blue / Future Galaxy1 / Portfolio✨

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via weheartit

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hiya, stranger.

i haven't written anything personal in a while and at one point, i was actually quite proud of myself that i didn’t turn to my blog to vent. every time i write something on here, it kinda feels like a defeat, you know? it feels like i went venturing off somewhere but came back with my tail between my legs whenever i write how i feel on here. 

so, i guess you could say this is what im doing right now: admitting defeat and hanging my head in shame as i update you with what’s going on in my life.

to put it simply, nothing. nothing is going on with my life. absolutely nothing. 

people always talk about life in two ways: either you’re moving forward or you’re going backwards. but what people never talk about (or warn you) are the times in your life when you are completely stagnant. and that’s what i guess im going through right now; not really moving forward or going backwards. staying completely still in all aspects that life has to offer: jobs, education, social life, love life, physically, mentally, financially. you might as well call me lifeless to be honest.

i cannot begin to express how frustrated i am with my life and how tired i am of hearing good news happen to other people. and honestly, im not afraid to admit that it’s selfish of me to think so. im human. im allowed to feel things and once in a while, that feeling just happens to be jealousy. i think it’s perfectly normal of me to feel envy for some people but when i catch myself feeling that, it doesnt make me feel good. i feel horrible for thinking that. so i tell myself not to dwell on it and to try and genuinely be happy for other people because i know the people in my life deserve nothing short of all the happiness that life can give them. it’s still hard though. 

more often than not, whenever someone asks how ive been doing, i try to sweep my emotions under the rug and answer as carefully as i fucking can to avoid having to explain myself further. either that, or i just try to change the subject. i dont quite know why im so apprehensive about telling people about my life. i mean,,, it’s not like anything ever fucking happens in my life anyways. i guess it’s mostly because im pretty fucking sure im one breakdown away from completely giving up. that, and i really dont want them to pity me. lemme tell you right now that i absolutely loathe when people start looking at me with their sorry eyes like i dont even pity myself, i sure as hell dont need other people to start pitying me.

and dont even get me fucking started on people who think i dont fucking try. do you have any idea what it feels like to do your best and still be told it wasnt fucking good enough? i applied to 98 fucking jobs on jobcentre. ninety-eight. im not even fucking joking. 98 jobs. and i only got shortlisted to two and even then, they both rejected me. and that’s jobcentre alone. i dont even wanna fucking count how many jobs i applied on the government website. 

i know my parents are frustrated with me. they ask and ask and all i ever answer them with are “no”’s. they try to be understanding and tell me it’s okay and how bad the economy is but i see it in their eyes how sad they are, how disappointed they are. i feel horrible for still having to depend on them for everything. i know they want me to take on a few bills when i do get a job and that’s completely understandable and expected of me. but there’s just something about being 23 years old and still having my parents support me that doesnt make me feel good about myself at all.

speaking of feeling good about myself, my self-confidence is even more nonexistent than the entire fucking time i was in university. the shitstorm that goes on in my fucking head every fucking day because of this is on a whole new level. it’s devastatingly overwhelming. i try to keep my depression at bay but honestly it feels like im just delaying the inevitable. it feels like youre trying to rein in a storm or a wave. no matter how hard or how much i try to ignore and suppress it, it’s always going to be there looming over me. it’s just a matter of time at this point.

honestly, i dont even fucking know what im doing with my life anymore. actually i do know what im doing: im rotting. rotting my potential away, rotting my youth away, rotting my mind away. rotting, rotting, rotting. it’s all im good for anyways.

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It occurred to Pooh and Piglet that they hadn’t heard from Eeyore for several days, so they put on their hats and coats and trotted across the Hundred Acre Wood to Eeyore’s stick house. Inside the house was Eeyore.

“Hello Eeyore,” said Pooh.

“Hello Pooh. Hello Piglet,” said Eeyore, in a Glum Sounding Voice.

“We just thought we’d check in on you,” said Piglet, “because we hadn’t heard from you, and so we wanted to know if you were okay.”

Eeyore was silent for a moment. “Am I okay?” he asked, eventually. “Well, I don’t know, to be honest. Are any of us really okay? That’s what I ask myself. All I can tell you, Pooh and Piglet, is that right now I feel really rather Sad, and Alone, and Not Much Fun To Be Around At All. Which is why I haven’t bothered you. Because you wouldn’t want to waste your time hanging out with someone who is Sad, and Alone, and Not Much Fun To Be Around At All, would you now.”

Pooh looked and Piglet, and Piglet looked at Pooh, and they both sat down, one on either side of Eeyore in his stick house.

Eeyore looked at them in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“We’re sitting here with you,” said Pooh, “because we are your friends. And true friends don’t care if someone is feeling Sad, or Alone, or Not Much Fun To Be Around At All. True friends are there for you anyway. And so here we are.”

“Oh,” said Eeyore. “Oh.” And the three of them sat there in silence, and while Pooh and Piglet said nothing at all; somehow, almost imperceptibly, Eeyore started to feel a very tiny little bit better.

Because Pooh and Piglet were There. No more; no less.

~ Kathryn Wallace

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he is half of my soul, as the poets say.

the song of achilles ― by madeline miller

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if i’m distant it’s because i hate myself not because i hate you