julierenee

  • me: instantly jumps to worst possible conclusion

knitcat asked: Dear *anyone*, Dear Santa, Dear past me

Dear Cathy, You have more strength than anyone I know. It’s an honor to have been your friend for so long and I hope that doesn’t change.

Dear Santa, please just send me a letter that says how it all turns out. That would be the perfect christmas present.

Dear past me, give up on him. It’s not worth the time and emotions. Spend that effort learning something badass instead.

solitair3:

 

I will write about the following, leave one in my ask box.

Dear person I hate,
Dear person I like,
Dear ex boyfriend,
Dear ex girlfriend,
Dear ex bestfriend,
Dear bestfriend,
Dear *anyone*,
Dear Santa,
Dear mom,
Dear dad,
Dear future me,
Dear past me,
Dear person I’m jealous of,
Dear person I had a crush on,
Dear girlfriend,
Dear boyfriend,
Dear [insert URL here],

please bc i really want to be distracted and these are cute ok????????????????????????

(Source: wishtoconfess, via myfriendanaandme)

I’m sort of OK as long as I sit perfectly still on the couch here. Like how you don’t realize how drunk you are until you step off the bar stool, the real trouble starts when I try to get up and do anything.

—Showering Is For Happy People (Article on depression).

(via hungry-feminist)

Also I am forever caring more for the boyfriend than he does for me. Maybe I just have that effect on guys, I have no idea. And Mike, if you’re reading this, I know I’m over analyzing everything and I just need to chill the fuck out. I’m aware. But that is much easier said than done.

Made it out to the east coast safely and settled into a new place for the summer. My work set me up with random roommates in the apartment. I am officially sharing a bedroom with a Mormon who doesn’t drink coffee or alcohol, doesn’t wear anything but jeans and tshirts, and sleeps nine hours a night. She’s a really nice girl and we won’t have any problems living together for the summer, but I have seriously no clue how to relate to her. At all. I haven’t been spending a lot of time in the apartment since I moved in last week.

  • person: you're really cute
  • me: are you making fun of me

The worst thing about depression is when you realize you don’t know how to smile for real anymore.
It’s the fake laughter.
It’s always being in physical pain for no reason.
It’s being tired. All the time.
It’s lying awake for hours with your mind racing.
It’s the phrase “I just don’t care.”
It’s boredom but you don’t want to do anything.
It’s feeling trapped.
It’s not knowing what you’re feeling but knowing that it hurts.
It’s the moment when you realize nothing matters anymore.
It’s going through life like a robot, an observer, not a participant.
It’s being numb.
It’s the first time you pray to die.
It’s when you wake up each morning.
It’s when you plan your own death.
It’s the guilt you feel because you “have no right” to be depressed.
It’s wanting other people to notice and care but not caring enough yourself to ask for help.
It’s looking into the future and seeing nothing.

— Clare. (aka hungry-feminist)

(Source: thescarswillfade, via hungry-feminist)