I've Been Going To The Same Therapist For Over Two Years And I Mentioned That I Wanted To Be An In Patient

I feel like there's no point to anything. The only thing I do everyday, the entire day, is stay on my phone or my laptop or sleep or eat, nothing else. I feel so drained and demotivated and just so empty.

I'm on the arospec and yesterday I had dream about my best friend and I being in a relationship and it brought me pure joy and delight in the dream so much so that I felt it after I woke up and i have never before thought of us that way and now I'm ajsjsjsk- so confused

I'm just so angry s so so angry and I don't know what to do with myself

I hate it when people do nice things for me on my birthday because I know that I don't deserve any of it and I'm a horrible person and I'm an imposter and I deserve only bad things but then that hurts too, but this hurts also

my grandma thinks i shouldn't over-share with my friends matters related to the family (w/ good intentions). but my whole entire life my friends have been my only confidantes and now all of the sudden, my family is learning to be supportive and understanding, and i have to not-do what I've already done? Even now, my first instinct is to reach out to a friend when I'm emotionally bleh , even when huge ass fights happen at home. I just can't not do that

I've never been obedient, I hate being obedient, but now I am being so to avoid getting scolded or spoken harshly to and I feel like I'm losing parts of myself, or losing myself - I feel sick and wrong inside and terrible, horrible. This is not who I am, this is not who I want to be, this is someone else doing something to avoid feeling hurt because they're in a fucking fragile mental space and fucking hell. It's wearing on me and I honestly don't know what to do.

I make homes of places. I make homes of cafes with soft lightning, reading nooks, and faceless people. I make homes of the narrow, empty corridors in second-hand book shops housing hardcovers with creases. I make homes of strangers sitting opposite to me on the over-night train going home, talking about travel and the story behind Don’t Stop Believing. I make homes of all the terraces I walk on, indentations of my feet on once empty spaces.

I don’t like it. I don’t like that when I leave, parts of myself are left behind. I don’t like that my mind hangs on to the feeling of nostalgia the way moss covers trees. I don’t like that my attachments are fleeting. I don’t like that I cannot put down my roots anywhere because change is the only thing that is permanent, and trees can’t move, they just keep shaking. I don’t like that I remember feelings. I don’t like things that are intangible. I don’t like what I cannot see, because people don’t believe you when you say you see shadows of things that aren’t touchable, hear music that isn’t recordable.

I want to be a palm tree. I want to live on a beach. I want to be so sturdy; the sands of time won’t change me. I want to settle down so deep, storms and waves won’t move me. I want to be a tree house, my own home, made of myself, made of my blood and skin and bones, so that from people, places and paroxysms of nostalgia I remain free. I want to stop leaving pieces of myself like breadcrumbs for heartbreak; I want to start collecting what I have already lost, the way the sea reclaims shells, the way birds return to their trees. I want to be whole again, but I am simply living kintsugi.

  -kpm ©

people : happy gandhi jaya-

me : no thank you

I feel so frigging tired and I wanna cry and the thought of having to attend my online classes tomorrow and being a productive person makes me feel horrible and on top of that having to attend my online yoga class in the evening and everything is just URGH, I just want to sleep away my life, please

Artist: @pinkbits on Instagram. 

I wrote this back when I had this image as my wallpaper -

 How do I make people understand the significance of the image I’ve chosen as my background picture? It definitely isn’t pornographic, which people don’t seem to comprehend because their teeny tiny minds can’t understand that nudity doesn’t inherently mean dirty, neither does is it automatically become sexual.

 The image speaks to me, it means a lot to me because of various reasons; it is body positive. A seemingly short-ish fat girl (I assume, I cannot say for sure) with curly hair just screams MEEE. The girl is throwing her hands up in the air as if she has no care – she’s confident in her body and isn’t shrinking herself for the thin gaze. She openly celebrates her fat body. The image taught me that fat nude bodies needn’t be hidden, fat nude bodies aren’t something to be ashamed of, fat nude bodies can be beautiful and sexy. It taught me to own my body.

The statements ‘More to have’, ‘More to give’ and ‘More to love’ are fat positive, it is accepting of fat bodies, it is celebratory of fat bodies and moreover there is no underlying shame or insecurity.

#FreeTheNipple – there is no reason why breasts should be censored, nipples should be censored, there is no reason why you shouldn’t exhibit your body if you want to. If cis male nipples aren’t censored, why are non-cis male nipples? There is absolutely no valid reason for this. The image is a big, fat (no pun intended) fuck you to the anti-#FreeTheNipple, slut shame-y and nudity=pornography bullshit.

The image is seemingly of a non-cis man and therefore the armpit hair becomes a statement. Body hair is natural, body hair is okay, body hair is normal, body hair is not disgusting, you do not have to shave if you don’t want to, its your choice and only your choice. There is absolutely no shame in showing off your armpit hair.

  This image is a powerful, radical statement; it is a loud, proud message; it is much more than a naked girl – it is of a naked girl, it also is much, much, much more. But even if it wasn’t, the image would still be as powerful since for some, nudity is empowering and confidently owning your naked body is empowerment. Not only does the image remind me of myself, but it also helped me evolve myself. One picture is worth a thousand words, after all.  

 Fin.