Clinquant
Tris. Embrace the future with Courage and Hope.


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"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)

this is perfect

(via sigarettuanda)

(Source: justsingyourlifeaway, via arrhen)



y2kbae:

✨💖💎y2kbae 4 Eva💎💖✨

sovietreality:

Female Soviet college students studying for exam in the park in late 1960s.



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"I’ve sort of been running. Running forwards. Running backwards. Running to the sides. Running away. But underneath it all, past the curtain of shadows and the veil of artificiality, I want to run towards myself. I keep on grappling for things meant to drag me down rather than build me up. I keep reaching out a hand towards something unknown, something seemingly full of life, something that might tame the loneliness residing in my soul. I keep calling out and searching for a projection of what might be. I think I need to retract my hand, look deep inside myself, and ignite what is there already. I need to run and run and run towards myself. Towards who I was and who I am. Towards the dormant passions and buried strengths. I keep asking for more, wanting more, that I’m losing my wildfire in pursuit for something paler. I need to bring myself back. I have to remember that I need to just be."
(NJ.)

(via nostalgicjoy)


lolalii:

looking for new people to talk to :) anons are welcome x



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