its so overwhelming to think how no one truly knows you completely. how the thoughts and feelings that you never voice, your worst insecurities and your deepest fears and your greatest regrets and hopes and desires, will never be known by anyone other than you. and this is true for everyone, every single person has layers and layers of depth to them and how can anyone unearth them all and see them down to their core. and we barely even know ourselves, how can we ever know other people beyond the surface. none of us are alone but there is still such an inherent loneliness to being human

im full of love but im full of rage but im full of love

she’s a 10 but she rots in her room all day listening to music and making up scenarios in her head

If you asked me what was wrong, I would not be able to think of a single thing. And yet my soul is weary and my heart constantly breaking and there's a storm of sobs scratching at my throat, fighting to be let out. Nothing is wrong, perhaps, except me

Do you ever think about how many of the items now considered priceless artifacts were once commonplace items? The coins we now marvel at from behind the glass at a museum were once tossed around, stepped on, and traded around. The pottery painstakingly pieced back together was somebody’s favorite wine jug. The decorative pin now rusted and bent once held together the shoulder of someone’s chiton. History is simply a trail of ordinary people going about their day, and I think there’s an odd sort of beauty in that.

Not all of us are meant for greatness. Perhaps I'm not meant to be known and have my face printed in newspapers and my name preserved in history book. And that is okay because if I cannot be great then I can atleast be good. I can be kind and gentle, I can smile at people I don't know and pet stray animals and make my loved ones laugh and I can laugh with them and I can love with all my heart. And if I can be good then that is enough. If I can make another of God's creations feel loved and cared for, is that not enough to make me worthy of the space I take in this world

life is just I am so lonely, I'm surrounded by people, I crave human connection, I want to be alone, there's so much noise, I'll never be heard, my silence is suffocating me, I'm screaming into the void, I have so much to say, they don't understand my language, I'm hard to read, I'm an open book, don't touch me gently, I'll break, don't hug me for too long, please never let me go, I want to be seen, I wish I was invisible, please love me, I'm not worthy of it, I'm trying so hard, I'm not doing enough, I'm the happiest I've ever been, my heart is breaking, I despise my anger, all I know is anger, I deserved better, they deserve better than me, I want to live, I wish I never existed, I gave her my all, she gave me nothing, I am her, I don't know her, I wish they liked me, I wish I loved myself

Ursula K. Le Guin, from The Dispossessed

[text ID: the yearning warmth of spring]

Don't worry if your life is in chaos, you are like the universe itself and its law of entropy. もの久保 on Pivix

men will boast about their anger and then go on to ridicule women by calling them irrational and emotional. My brother in christ, anger is an emotion and arguably the most irrational of them all

do you ever look at the people around you and think about how much better and easier their lives would be if you didn't exist

when you can feel yourself regressing to old behaviours that you'd worked hard to grow out of but you can't stop yourself

I cannot understand this sadness in my soul

I am an amalgamation of others, of my mother's caress and my father's soft eyes, of my friends' laughter and my teachers' gentle guidance, of my sister's teasing and my aunt's kindness, of my grandmother's prayers and grandfather's piety, of the books that broke my heart and the music that made my soul ache, of the words of others both cruel and kind, of people's expectations and their assumptions, of their love and their hate. What am I, if stripped of these?

I poured into you from the pitcher of my life; my love, my devotion, my life force, poured it all but you were an endless void, a bottomless abyss; I poured and I poured until I was an empty husk but still you asked for more

you know what's not talked about enough? the psychological effects of a physical illness. The body dysmorphia you face during and after, the constant mental exhaustion, how chronic pain after a prolonged illness can leave you feeling incapable of achieving anything, how your inability to regain your health can lead you to cycles of depression and self loathing, how it can ruin your confidence and self esteem, how your mental strength is destroyed alongside your physical strength, how it can make you more susceptible to mental illnesses. idk I just think we should give this more attention and realize that even when the doctors clear you, the effects of illness can often run deep and be long lasting

If you’re feeling down or anxious today, you can pretend you’re in my room with me. It’s raining outside but its cozy in here. I’m at my desk writing, you can lay on the bed and read or take the arm chair. It’s really comfy and I have extra blankets if you’re cold. You want to borrow a hoodie? You want hot chocolate? You can look through my vinyl collection or watch a movie. If you want to talk, I’ll put my writing away. Or you can just sit quietly. Whatever you want to do, just know that you’re safe here. You can stay as long as you want and you can always come back. Everything is going to be okay x