This blog is Dedicated to anyone suffering from Anxiety! Please Follow Us if You Can Relate: ANXIETYPROBLEMS
This blog is Dedicated to anyone suffering from Anxiety! Please Follow Us if You Can Relate: @anxietyproblem
MOVING DAY
He is staring at the wall behind my head
The paint has yellowed with time like a mouth
Of smokers teeth and we no longer hurt
We are looking at our own shit
Like it is in someone else’s garage sale
Everything we once wanted now second hand
And we do not care that the new renters have big plans
To knock down a wall, to open up the space
They will power-wash the deck, finish the garden that
I wanted to nurture once but eventually gave up on
Because I forgot how to love anything that took time to change
Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.”
Kait Rokowski (A Good Day)
You know that moment when you search yourself on tumblr & your poem has 150,000 notes?
Wait…what? Ok.
(via kaitrokowski)
The great artist Michelangelo claimed that his sculptures were already present in the stone, and all he had to do was carve away everything else.
Our understanding of identity is often similar: Beneath the many layers of shoulds and shouldn’ts that cover us, there lies a constant, single, true self that is just waiting to be discovered.
Sheena Iyengar, The Art of Choosing
(via julesofnature)
(via julesofnature)
“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway. If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway.” — Mother Teresa
i told a lady i really liked ghosts and she said “are you being serious or are you just saying that in case one is listening”
arnottsunited