I think this capitalist-driven idea that we can buy wellness just isn’t true.
“It will be okay.” Repeat this to yourself, over and over again, until it is okay.
There are only a selective few people I feel able to eat in front of. I eat in front of my boyfriend, and that’s pretty much it.
The desire to do anything has gone. Only the numbness remains; a blank, empty sheet of paper, a black hole, an abyss of despair.
When you lose a close friend, when someone ghosts you and just disappears, it can feel like grief. It’s so abrupt, the change. It is more than just missing your close friend, it is a deep sense that something isn’t right, that some long-held routine or ritual has been disrupted, lost.
The voice was belittled. It was made small and delicate; it was modeled after its owner’s body.
Sometimes it takes a little while to find what suits you.
“If you tell someone a secret, it’s no longer a secret.”
I almost experience life in the third person — because I am constantly evaluating it and worrying about the meaning of it, I lose the experience itself.
“You do know that you’re not very well, don’t you?”