Lapsing Into Nicholson

So I’m trying to really locate where all this loneliness really comes from. And the depression bit. Because it only really comes at night. Or on the weekends. And it’s the sort of loss of interest can’t get myself to move type. And I’m trying to figure out what to do about it, but I really can’t pin point it.

It’s getting really bad and annoying and I want to fix it.

PEOPLE ON TUMBLR WITH DEPRESSION.

Help me.

How can I be less lonely?

More happy?

More satisfied with being alone?

How do I make friends?

What can I do right now? What do YOU do?

Baby (My most prized piece)

My baby was like lovely
My baby spoke to me like sexy
My baby moved with me like Presley
My baby
My
Baby
Her baby was a real moment
Her baby spoke like stop-motion
Her baby moved with us like devotion
Her baby
Our
Baby
My body is more than enough to watch
My body will never be stopped
My body was valumption in a brown paper bag
My
Body
Her body is standard
Her body will always be scavenged
Her body was ill fitted for babies nature.
Her body.
Was
Perfect
My fight was harder than hers
My fight lasted longer than hers
My fight could run circles round hers
My fight
Not
Hers
Her solidity was standing easy
Her solidity lasted long enough for baby
Her solidity could classify as…crazy.
She
Was silent
My tears were fucking worth more
My anger was valid
My easy going attitude was bullshit, but I pulled it off fucking well
So
Well
And he found me in the fetal position, cradling words and soliloquies through his cavities in my teeth
Screaming for the need of his drug addictions and familiar pretentions
A daily dose of once a month
My addiction was passive
My addiction could hide just to seek
My addiction would wait every week
My addiction
Hid in a cardboard box in an attic waiting for dusty redemption, knowing it would come when the cookies were done
My
Addiction
Her obsession was for protection
Her obsession was baby’s moonlit sonata with a liquid drug, blown by a girl torn into like a chicken
Her obsession was my destruction
Her obsession
Was obsessed with itself
My sanity planted
My sanity stretched through its own roots and choked the repast of my lifeless baby in the form of the telephone
My sanity stopped waiting every week
Every day
Every month
My sanity
Is back
My cavities
Are filled
My redemption
Was that last time I kissed him and he fell down flat, screaming “Give me my baby back!”
That time he called me his black widow
The 10 minutes he stared at me with dead time in the reflection of his eyes
My redemption
Was fucking beautiful
Her baby is kept in a plastic jar
Her baby stays in her neutral for her fear of him straying too far
Her baby is forever never his own individual
Her baby
Is miserable
My baby
My baby feels lovely
My baby moves through crowds independently, but with heavy amounts of sexual tension on her feet
My baby is open
To anything
My baby
My
Baby
Is me

Just sent the boy off again (this time really for who knows how long, either he sees me again before going back to South America in November, or he doesn’t and I don’t see him till about March. Meh.) without joining him on the trip to the airport this time.

Walked inside of my bedroom and burst into tears for about a minute or two. Like, intense, built up in a second, flowing quickly, hearty tears kinda cry. Then stopped crying, now I don’t feel a sudden urge and push in my throat and eye sockets to cry. WHAT KIND OF SCIENCE IS THIS? Like, what is crying? Where are the tears in my body now? Why do already feel a little bit better? After a minute of crying? I love him boat loads and could cry and miss him already but it’s not the same.

WHAT IS THIS? DOES ANYBODY KNOW ABOUT CRYING STUFF?

I want to be skinny.

beautyxkillerx:

plantobethin:

because i want to look cute with a belly ring.

because i want to look good in that little black dress.

because i want a cute butt.

because i want to sit down and have my stomach still be flat.

because i don’t want to have a muffin top.

because i want to be a successful before and after picture.

because i want someone to think i’m pretty.

because i want to have confidence.

THIS.

ALWAYS REBLOG

Yeaaaaah

I know that girls can post whatever they want, but this makes me sad.

If somebody is telling you that you’re not pretty, ditch them, because they aren’t worth your time. If this said you wanted to be skinny so that you would be healthier than you are now, that would be one thing.

But there is no doubt in my mind that you are already beautiful, and I hope you can acknowledge that. I hope you know that there are plenty of women with muffin tops who have oozing confidence. Lots of roll-y tummied ladies have husbands or wives or even just a positive attitude. I’m not the skinniest girl on the block, and I have a fabulous ass. Belly rings are expensive and black dresses tend to be overrated. This is not me yelling at anybody, by any means. This is me being hopeful, and also shaking you a little bit. One reason being, by reblogging this you are saying that millions of girls out there who aren’t skinny are unattractive and lack confidence, and that is overbearingly false and is in no way helping your fellow lady sisters gain confidence in the skin they should love. We already face so much dooming criticism when we walk outside, the last thing a woman needs is to get it from another woman. Another reason being, YOU ARE SO LOVELY, PLEASE GOOD GRACIOUS DON’T FORGET THAT. You can be any shape you want, and if the shape is skinny, that is TOTALLY fine. But please. Please please please, do it for the right reason, not because somebody doesn’t think you’re pretty or your jeans aren’t fitting right. Splurge and buy yourself the right pair of jeans, because you’re wonderful and beautiful and worth it.

This has been my pump up talk for the day.

(Source: -musicislove)

A Letter To Be Okay To

Dear Self,

And I know you feel sad sometimes.
Congratulations.
Pain is easy.
Don’t be complaining.

…….
The hardest part is not knowing anything.
Daily rituals hoarded with what if’s and maybes.
I wrote about it before.
I seem to be lacking my baby.
I’ve gotten myself lost.
Surrounded by. Trees.
Wood.
I could chop it all down.
But I don’t quite seem to have the resources.
Adaptation to slight glimmers of sunlight through tree tops never seemed too difficult.
Because you just. Crank. Crank your neck back and stretch your eyes open from the dreams of them maybe being back next to you in your bed with their fingers on your naked lower back.
It doesn’t even feel like your bed anymore.
So just stretch. Reach and tickle leaves aside so that there’s a bigger hole to the sky.
Because you will be fine.
Keep reaching.
Keep going.
You can do it.
You will be fine.
I promise.
You don’t need to wait for rain.
I want you to be embarrassed about the rhyme, feel free to cry and understand your pain.
Keep your arms up. And keep tickling.
No matter how much it irritates your fingertips.
No matter how fast the leaves change colors and crinkle down into your eyelids.
Accept the tiny fragments as irritants. Understand that it’s not just wetness.
Doesn’t matter how long it takes, the more sunshine you can get, the easier it will seem.
For the time being.
Even if your smile is fake.
Don’t be ashamed of wet pillows.
And never erase memories from couches and side streets just so that it’s easier to function.
Never tell yourself that the smiling wasn’t worth it and that you shouldn’t have ever dreamt of anything bigger because of how big your heart had gotten.
And it’s okay for it to get bigger.
Distance and time will make it stronger.
For whoever.
Maybe just yourself.
You’re an expert at watching yourself in pain.
So mend the sting this time.
You’re not ridiculous for feeling.
You’re lucky, if anything.
Soak your pillows.
But please remember to keep reaching.
Yes, you get to be sad.
But you more than deserve to be happy.

Every time I see something Harry Potter related on my dash I just start CRYING.

GODDDDDD.

i have decided that not being hungry is a stupid idea, and that since i’m exceptionally sad, pathetic, bloated, about to get my period and i’ve been moving non fucking stop this week, that i must eat everything in the world. i also must have wine, but we’ll get there later.

great plan. i hope all the other ladies will join me.

I hate when some bitch is like…

“I THINK IMA GO TO THE GYM” all

But then she’s like “….maybe you should come, too” all

But I just fucking sit there all like

But then later that night I’m totally like