I

(through gritted teeth) sometimes what's good for your mental health isn't another do nothing day or a little treat sometimes what's good for you is putting in some of the work. Not all of it at once but sometimes you have to finish that essay or at least take the next step or you have to clean your room or at least dust the shelves or you gotta do the laundry or at least put it all in the hamper and it's not fun and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks but you have to because i read a post on the internet that told me that's what being nice to yourself is sometimes

nobody talks about how much of writing is just you staring at a blank document, begging your brain for one good sentence.

lost one of my closest friends when he suddenly passed in the middle of the night. had to get up and open the store we worked for seven hours later, he was scheduled to be there with me just like every weekend morning.

it goes on, it sucks, but it goes on.

one of the most fucked up aspects of being an adult is really how life-goes-on everything is. like you can be dealing with the most fucked up trauma-drama-grief and still have to sleep and eat food to survive and like. poop. pooping while you're really sad shouldn't be a thing but it is. we don't have a say in the matter. life goes on

✨Gender✨

You are loved.

Reference here

hi, a lot of you need a perspective reset

the average human lifespan globally is 70+ years

taking the threshold of adulthood as 18, you are likely to spend at least 52 years as a fully grown adult

at the age of 30 you have lived less than one quarter of your adult life (12/52 years)

'middle age' is typically considered to be between 45-65

it is extremely common to switch careers, start new relationships, emigrate, go to college for the first or second time, or make other life-changing decisions in middle age

it's wild that I even have to spell it out, but older adults (60+) still have social lives and hobbies and interests.

you can still date when you get old. you can still fuck. you can still learn new skills, be fashionable, be competitive. you can still gossip, you can still travel, you can still read. you can still transition. you can still come out.

young doesn't mean peaked. you're inexperienced in your 20s! you're still learning and practicing! you're developing social skills and muscle memory that will last decades!

there are a million things to do in the world, and they don't vanish overnight because an imaginary number gets too big

the tragedy of tumblr is you will inevitably meet people who you should be having a sleepover with. you should be rolling around on their floor and rummaging through their fridge and watching shitty movies with. you should be shopping with should be going out to a cafe with should be wandering through the aquarium with. people who you should be experiencing quotidian joys with... and you cannot! because they live one million miles away

rawest fucking hozier lyrics in no particular order:

i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight

heat of her breath in my mouth; im alive

i’d be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground

idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword

and when the earth is trembling on some new beginning with the same sweet shock of when adam first came

every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside

the stench of the sea and the absence of green are the death of all things that are seen and unseen

if I was born as a blackthorn tree i’d wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies

some like to imagine the dark caress of someone else, I guess any thrill will do

before the wave hits, marveling at god; before he feels alone one final time and marries the sea

betray the moon as acolyte on first and fierce affirming sight

i have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me, I have never known hunger like these insects that feast on me

screaming the name of a foreigner’s god; the purest expression of grief

sweet and right and merciful, i’m all but washed in the tide of her breathing

but you don’t know the hell you put me through; to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

so i try to talk refined for fear that you find out how i’m imagining you

my head was war, my skin was soaked, I called your name ‘til the fever broke

be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking

remember me, love, when i’m reborn as a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn