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wtf?

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“Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.”

— Vincent van Gogh (via goodreadss)

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Do you have any happy poems that I could read at a charity event?

No. They are all sad. 

Just kidding. Mostly. Here’s an optimistic one from Graffiti:

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Watching Goosebumps rn and literally hitting myself in the face for actually getting scared from this when I was little. 

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~Day Two~ (Ignore the hair clinging to my lip. Now you can’t. Ha.)

I have mixed feelings. One moment I am confident—in who I am, in where I’m going, how I look and in the decisions I make—the next, I feel unsure. Doubtful of my worth, critical of my actions, downplaying my strength and intelligence and beauty.

I’ll go from comparing myself to who I was yesterday to the woman walking down the grocery aisle, the one sitting on the bus seat across from me. How vibrant and gentle these people seem, and what am I?

I wonder if anyone ever looks at me and thinks the same, but more often than not I feel like a side-table. You would notice if you bumped into me, but mostly I just blend into the background.

I look in the mirror and notice flaws, acne and frizzing hair and oil, bones and flub in odd places. I try to tell myself what I would tell some other girl if she had such flaws: you are beautiful and unique and no one is composed quite like you. You are someone’s favorite song, even if you sound similar to a lot of other music, you are someone’s favorite. Try loving your own tune.

Those words feel like wishes right now, promises to the future. But I believe one day, they will feel like truth, perseverant and natural as breath.

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Rose tea ☕️🌹

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spring by  Joanna Kitchener

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I hate glamorizing over-working. It’s not healthy. The fact that there are so many people going without sleep, food, personal hygiene (not to mention time for relaxation, personal time, and socialization, which are very necessary for mental health) just to stay afloat is not something to be celebrated or applauded. It’s a problem, not a goal that all good employees should aspire to, or a norm everyone should be expected to perform.

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Day One Just woke up. Wearing pants that are too big, along with a shirt that is too big. My skin is a little broken out, my hair is bumps and lumps in weird places. I don’t know how I feel about who I see in the mirror anymore. I haven’t done much lately, just work and more work. Interests and hobbies are on the back burner, stale, sticky, and growing mold. The smell is reeking up the entire house. I don’t like what I see. And even when a moment of self admiration occurs, it’s quick and bright and is snuffed out by self doubt. I question my worth, my value, my purpose—what I can bring and what I have brought. I have a lot of dreams about death that make me wake up with a wild new love for my life and who I am. But that doesn’t stop me questioning. What will it take for me to love who I am, what I see? Maybe it’s determination, infinite patience and an iron grip. Or maybe it takes a “fuck it” attitude and a bit of reckless abandon. Maybe a bit of both. Time to make breakfast.

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Sunflowers in a misty morning 🌻

Sissinghurst Castle Garden, Kent, England

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accidentally looked like winnie the pooh:)🍯 ig: morgvnn

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