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[diegest]

☆ fluorescent adolescent

[diegest]

Anaïs Nin, from a novel titled "A Spy in the House of Love," published in 1954

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I so badly wish the people from my grad school cohort wanted to be friends and network as much as I want to.

These people make me feel like I’m an extrovert.

[diegest]

[diegest]

August 2, 1918 Virginia Woolf, “A Writer’s Diary” (1918 - 1941) originally published: 1918

[diegest]

Halsey

[diegest]

[diegest]

[diegest]

May 7, 1925 Journals of Anais Nin 1923-1927 [volume 3]

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[diegest]

[diegest]

[diegest]

It’s so incredibly easy for me to make jokes about not having a father figure and daddy issues but it’s not fun when the middle of the night comes and you read something a little too close to your situation and you just can’t help but cry. I wish my dad loved me so bad. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that his wife’s adult kids can make posts on Facebook about how he’s supposedly the father who stepped up but he could never do the bare minimum for you, one of his only two biological children.

It’s cruel seeing the posts of them all on vacation together knowing I wasn’t even invited. It’s gut wrenching knowing he never came to see me in the 8 years I lived in my old town.

I just don’t understand it. He’s the one male figure in my life I needed love from and he couldn’t even do it.

He couldn’t even make the effort to come to my college graduation or take any interest in my significant others ever or any of my milestones. And yet he winds up in the hospital, I drive across the state because I’m so worried about him, and I essentially get the cold shoulder.

It’s not fair. I never deserved this and I hate that I still care so badly. It wouldn’t hurt so much if I didn’t.

[diegest]

[diegest]

♡ Tights and soft socks ♡