jaimee

My plans for the next four weeks:

1. Eat
2. Sleep
3. Run
4. Try not to be too sad.

“Happiness, as we conceive of it, doesn’t really exist — at least not in the same way suffering does. What we refer to as happiness is really just what the absence of suffering feels like.”

You moved like a fire through the forest
Your hands were as red as the skin on your lips
You’ve been flirting with distance, princess
I tasted it’s spit in your kiss
Oh mistress, know today I will bury the flames of your failure
The past is a liar
The future, a whore
I’ll lay your bones into the earth and you will haunt my head no more.

Oh get fuuuucked

12. You are stressed out. Why are you stressed out? Omg, work is so stressful and breathing is so stressful. You need a massage or an entire pumpkin pie to take the edge off. Or maybe, just maybe, you need to get fucked.

cr0ssfirehurricane:

Green Day lead singer Billie Joe Armstrong wrote this about his father, who died of cancer on September 1st, 1982. At his father’s funeral, Billie cried, ran home and locked himself in his room. When his mother got home and knocked on the door to Billie’s room, Billie simply said, “Wake me up when September ends.”

“Picture yourself when you were five. In fact, dig out a photo of little you at that time and tape it to your mirror. How would you treat her, love her, feed her? How would you nurture her if you were the mother of little you? I bet you would protect her fiercely while giving her space to spread her itty-bitty wings. She’d get naps, healthy food, imagination time, and adventures into the wild. If playground bullies hurt her feelings, you’d hug her tears away and give her perspective. When tantrums or meltdowns turned her into a poltergeist, you’d demand a loving time-out in the naughty chair. From this day forward I want you to extend that same compassion to your adult self.”
—Kris Carr (via larmoyante)

The single most hopeful thing I have ever read.

You are not what you think yourself to be, I assure you. The image you have of yourself is made up from memories and is purely accidental.