May 2013
39 posts
The people who get most upset when you have an...
are the same people who have never been shy about having an opinion about everyone else’s.
I want to live in a bubble with comfortable,...
Where I don’t socially humiliate myself on a daily basis. Where my roles and the expectation that accompanies those roles are clear.
I am guilty of projecting unhappiness with myself
onto my relationship.
If it can be described as "chambray",
I promise your item of clothing is not cute.
Last year around this time
everyone was graduating from college.
This year, they’re all getting married.
You're not scared of me.
I'm letting go
and pushing off.
Swim after me if you want.
most girls: hair done up really cute, lots of makeup, designer clothes, hipster blog, thigh gap
me: no hair, glasses, scary beard, button up shirts and porkpie hat, cooks meth to provide for my family. i am the danger. i am the one who knocks
If it had been me,
you would have been the first one I told.
One of the saddest things about growing up
is realizing your role models aren’t everything you thought they were, but are simply human with the same flaws, insecurities, and selfish tendencies that you struggle with yourself.
We won't stay friends
because you get mad when I don’t ask you about certain things, and mad when I do. I feel like you’re constantly holding me up to this high, but unspoken standard, and consistently disappointed and upset with me when I don’t meet it.
A friend should never make you feel like you’re jumping through hoops. A friend should accept you as you are, or be able to properly...
I'm learning to quit my perfectionism.
I’m learning to give myself permission to make mistakes, or to do things that I may not be the best at, and not beating myself up for not being the best or sabotaging myself when I know I won’t be the best.
I’m learning to let myself be human, and to cut myself the same slack I cut everyone else.
My old high school boyfriend-thing
just messaged me on Facebook to tell me he and his fiancee are thinking of moving to Austin.
Seriously, old high school classmates?! Are you fucking ALL going to follow me here? ‘Cause this bullshit is starting to get out of hand.
Everybody thinks it should be them,
but, realistically, in the hierarchy of my social life, Drew comes first.
Pet Peeve:
People posting on Facebook vague references to being injured, or being in the hospital so everyone will ask them what’s wrong.
1) You’re alive and you can still walk, right? Then I don’t care.
2) If you wanted to tell Facebook what was wrong, just say it. Don’t clog up my newsfeed trying to get 10 comments on it of people pretending to be concerned.
3) Don’t...
People getting butthurt that I didn't invite them...
I did not HAVE a birthday celebration, unless spending the day reading four chapters of psychology and taking a final is a celebration.
The irony is that you don’t talk to me enough to know that I wasn’t celebrating my birthday this year, but you think you talk to me enough to warrant being offended when you’re not invited to something you only think happened.
I don't give a shit about Coachella
Not like I was expecting a fucking parade or...
but this has been one of those birthdays that, if it were a movie, it would turn out that everyone had been planning a surprise party and was trying to throw the main character off the scent.
But this isn’t a movie, and I’m not a main character, and nobody is trying to throw me off the scent. Everyone authentically just forgot/doesn’t care that today is my birthday.
I just...
The plans have been made,
the parents informed, and in August I will be moving in with the love of my life.
I feel invisible.
Pet Peeve:
Anyone who uses the word “exquisite”. Anyone.
Tell me it's going to be okay
because the knot in my stomach is sapping my motivation and my energy and has had my stomach constantly upset for the past five days and it’s getting harder and harder to believe that it’s going to work out in my favor.
I have been fatigued all day.
And now my throat is getting sore.
Please, oh please, oh please don’t let me be getting sick during finals. Please don’t let it happen.
I fucking hate when tectbooks use acronyms.
If you mean “Conditioned stimulus”, why can’t you just SAY “conditioned stimulus”? Because all this CS, CR, US, UR nonsense makes me have to go back over and over to make sure I read it right.
I always thought that by the time I was 23
I’d have all the answers. Or at least some of the answers. But here I am, with no more answers than I had seven years ago, but this time with the wisdom to start telling myself that maybe it’s okay. Maybe no one has the answers. Maybe we’re all just bubbling in the boxes as we go and praying for success.
Here's an idea:
During finals week, why don’t you NOT carry on phone conversations in the common area? Maybe operate under the assumption that there is someone studying or sleeping at any given moment? That’s a much safer assumption than thinking we want to listen to you on the phone describing the taste of the meat you’re cooking to whoever is on the other end.
Weather channel predicts
that Saturday is going to be the first fully sunny day we’ve had in weeks, with a high of 80. This good weather news, combined with my birthday, is making me more motivated to finish my studying today and tomorrow so I can spend Saturday poolside up until my final that night.
He sees how hard I am on myself.
He knows I set impossible standards for myself and then beat myself up when I inevitably fail, and I feel like I’ll never be good enough. He hates that I do that to myself.
I think he doesn’t like you because you set the same impossibly high standards for me, get mad when I inevitably fail to meet them, and make me feel like no matter what I do it will never be enough.
Two episodes of The Mindy Project
and reading a Cosmo.
Yep, definitely settling into my early-mid twenties already.
"Liking" a post on Facebook
is not the same as saying “thank you”. If I wish you a happy birthday, or I tell you that you look beautiful in a photo, or I congratulate you, either don’t acknowledge my post, or say “thank you”. “Liking” it just means that you like that I did that, but you’re not appreciative.
I'm going to kill my group.
This project is due in less than six hours and they are still filming and texting me to come meet them to film. Uh, bitches? I was available on Monday, but you guys just wanted to go home. You don’t text me at 10 am saying you want to film today. No emergency is happening over here, so I am not rushing over there.
Cutting my hair makes me feel sad.
Like I’m casting out someone who’s loved me well and done me no harm. I feel like it makes the universe think I don’t appreciate the hair it’s given me and, in turn, it will take it away.
April 2013
65 posts
I'm scared.
I don’t want this.
So tired.
Words no longer even make sense and I still have to write a short paper for my creative writing class, plus I didn’t finish my sensation and perception paper. I wasted a lot of time writing three different endings for my short story, and I still fucking hate it. It’s so bad. And I don’t even get to come crash after class at 3:30 because then I have to film a video for my problem...
GIVE ME AN INCH!
I’m sick of pulling your teeth and feeling like I’ll never quite come in first. You think you’re giving me gold, but it feels more like lead, holding me down and holding me back.
I’m sick of feeling starved and alone, but oh no, I can’t turn elsewhere for what I need because somewhere out there is someone who claims they have a lifetime supply of it for me.
The...
I will be 23 in a week.
I have never cared about or wanted a birthday less.
It's very unfortunate:
My roommate has an iPhone, which, from how expensive it is, I assumed was moderately functional as a phone. But it clearly must not be because she has to shout when she’s on the phone because I guess it doesn’t pick up normal speech?
That’s what I have to tell myself because this girl is constantly on the phone, and shouting so loud that I can hear it in my room over my TV when...
Crept on my elementary school crush's Facebook.
I liked him for his fart jokes ‘cause I was too young to understand the concept of looks. But I’m old enough now, and I think my crush just got rekindled because he went and got hot. Like, really, really hot. Also, I’ve clearly had a type since I was single digits, even if I didn’t know it. Or maybe having a crush on him as a kid swayed me toward my type? I don’t...
I never want to make you feel
the way they make me feel.
