Rowanbough - Utterly Unoriginal Title

Cant have fucking shit in Detroit

NEW FISH JUST DROPPED

fucking hate it when the stuff everybody says "actually works" does actually work.

hate exercising and realizing i've let go of a lot of anxiety and anger because i've overturned my fight-or-flight response.

hate eating right and eating enough and eating 3 times a day and realizing i'm less anxious and i have more energy

hate journaling in my stupid notebook with my stupid bic ballpoint and realizing that i've actually started healing about something once i'm able to externalize it

hate forgiving myself hate complimenting myself more often hate treating myself with kindness hate taking a gratitude inventory hate having patience hate talking to myself gently

hate turning my little face up to the sun and taking deep breaths and looking at nature and grounding myself and realizing that i feel less burdened and more hopeful, more actually-here, that i am able to see the good sides of myself more clearly, that i am able to see not only how far i have to grow - but also how much growth i have already done & how much of my life i truly fill with light and laughter and love

horrible horrible horrible. hate it but i'm gonna do it tho

I know some fic writers get stressed about writing tropes they think are too popular or overdone, and I need you all to know that I just spent 4 hours reading every iteration of the same exact fic plot I could find, and they all brought me an indescribable amount of joy. Listen. Listen. Sometimes you want cakes of many flavours and sometimes you want Nine Carrot Cakes

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

and a merry boop to all <3

Johnny Cash’s song on prison abolition, about San Quentin prison specifically, performed for the inmates of San Quentin prison.

San Quentin, what good do you think you do? Do you think I’ll be different when you’re through? You bend my heart and mind and you warp my soul, And your stone walls turn my blood a little cold.

San Quentin, may you rot and burn in hell. May your walls fall and may I live to tell. May all the world forget you ever stood. And may all the world regret you did no good. San Quentin, I hate every inch of you!

fat porcelain dollgirl with lovingly filled in cracks for stretch marks

From My Father Once Told Me, Ben Konkol.

I just think medieval snail ladies are neat.

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