A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.

“Many of my movies have strong female leads—brave, self-sufficient girls that don’t think twice about fighting for what they believe with all their heart. They’ll need a friend, or a supporter, but never a savior. Any woman is just as capable of being a hero as any man.” 

—Hayao Miyazaki

This is what happens when you have too much time on your hands.

Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries, took the bus home, carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment and cooked myself dinner. You and I may have different definitions of a good day. This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill, worked 60 hours between my two jobs, only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks and slept like a rock. Flossed in the morning, locked my door, and remembered to buy eggs. My mother is proud of me. It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course. She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale” with, “Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs” But she is proud. See, she remembers what came before this. The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles, how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks. She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide. These were the bad days. My life was a gift that I wanted to return. My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs. Depression, is a good lover. So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you. And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world, That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting. It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created. Today, I slept in until 10, cleaned every dish I own, fought with the bank, took care of paperwork. You and I might have different definitions of adulthood. I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college, but I don’t speak for others anymore, and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for. And my mother is proud of me. I burned down a house of depression, I painted over murals of greyscale, and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live But today, I want to live. I didn’t salivate over sharp knives, or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge. I just cleaned my bathroom, did the laundry, called my brother. Told him, “it was a good day.”

Kait Rokowski (A Good Day)

oh no, I’m crying

(via littlecatlady)

that’s all we ever were…right, sis?

Not sure if I'm a woodland fairy or a mermaid aheh

Not sure if I'm a woodland fairy or a mermaid aheh

*drooling*....it looks. ..so fucking perf.

SEVEN FUCKING PARTY MEMBERS IN-ACTION AT ONCE, I FUCKING LOVE YOU TRI-ACE

Welp I guess I'm pans now.

Just kill me T-T