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I have a pretty decent job. Some days it is even great. I get stable paychecks, have no risk of being fired, and have no consequences for being late. I even get to help kids who have had it really rough in their life.
So why, when I think about doing this in the long term, do I sink into this despair? Why can’t I be content with a decent job because it’s not where my heart is? I want to be building and creating. I want to be training people to build and create. I want to spend my days in ratty clothes covered in paint, only cleaning up for special occasions. I want to have moments to myself when I can just make a world or a character appear out of a pile of materials.
Will I ever be truly happy with what I’m doing in life? The truth is, I’m terrified nothing will ever be enough. Everything will always feel like settling.
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There is a terrible emptiness in me, an indifference that hurts.
Albert Camus, The First Man, 1944
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sorry your boyfriend was just so sweet and bruised and mushy we made him into a bananas bread
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“Your test results came back as normal”
[ID: Gif of Legolas saying “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”]
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Person: I don’t really think your symptoms/illness/condition is actually as bad as you say it is…
Me:
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chronically ill person: i need help managing my illness and its symptoms bc im really struggling here
doctor: have you tried exercising, eating fruit and losing weight?
chronically ill person:

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When you’re super symptomatic and are willing to pay some five (5) dollars to murder you no questions ask
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I used to hate my body because of how it looked but now I hate it because of how it feels
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Broken Promises and Unjust Truths make my blood fucking boil.
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