Kelly Alice

me: wow, im actually feeling peaceful today-

brain: oh yeah? well then here’s a list of all embarrassing things you’ve done in the past that you’ve buried in the deepest part of your mind. enjoy your peace and have fun cringing xoxo

Damn.

i thought i queued this but maybe not, either way i missed the anniversary of one of the best memes from demyx time that i’ll forever be nostalgic for

If you know the word floccinaucinihilipilification thanks to a cosplayer you are qualified for a veterans account

your life is worth living even if you’re “not doing anything”

your life is worth living even if you are “letting life pass you by”

your life is worth living even if you stay in bed all day every day watching netflix

you don’t have to be big, beloved, important, beautiful, wealthy or famous

there is dignity in just being

it is ok to be

you merely have to be

I just want my mom. I’ve never been this lost or this lonely before and I know that she would understand and try to help me. But she’s not here and I don’t know what to do. I want my mom. I want to go home. I don’t even know what “I want to go home” means anymore. I just miss my mom so much tonight that I can barely breathe. 

I had my own notion of grief. I thought it was a sad time that followed the death of someone you loved. And you had to push through it to get to the other side. But I’m learning there is no other side.  There is no pushing through. But rather, there is absorption. Adjustment. Acceptance.  And grief is not something you complete. But rather you endure.  Grief is not a task to finish, and move on, but an element of yourself – an alteration of your being.  A new way of seeing, a new definition of self.

You know what sucks? Going Christmas shopping and seeing all kinds of things that you could buy for your mom. And as you’re looking at it and touching it, checking the price, reality sinks in. Your mom is gone, and she won’t be there to open presents.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

3 ½ years

Now it’s 4 months

self-harm recovery is the weirdest road i’ve ever walked and look, i don’t regret recovery one bit. but honestly, the thing that kills me, the thing that is so hard, is those completely random moments when urges hit you like a truck. when you’re making pasta and your forearm just bumps the pot and the light burning feeling makes you feel momentarily like you’re losing your grip on your mental stability. and when you’re laying in bed and your arms are just itching, itching so fucking bad, but you hold them and you grit your teeth and you just wait it out. no one told me how fucking unbelievably insane i’d feel, wanting more than anything, to just hurt myself. and it’s terrifying. i don’t regret it. but it’s a scary process and sometimes it’s lonely and sometimes it makes me feel like a wild animal and i hate it. but i’m recovering. i’m getting better. this is where i’m at and i choose to keep my body safe from my mind instead of giving in and i’m proud of that. i’ve come a long way. but today’s been hard. i guess that’s okay.

One: Seven, did you eat the strawberry cake I made?

Seven: Is there still some on my face?

One: No.

Seven: Then no.

One: Seven, did you eat the strawberry cake I made?

Seven: Is there still some on my face?

One: No.

Seven: Then no.

One: Seven, did you eat the strawberry cake I made?

Seven: Is there still some on my face?

One: No.

Seven: Then no.