If i talk to you about my past, it’s for you to understand why i am who i am, not to judge or feel sorry for me.
- Me: *tries to go to bed at a reasonable time*
- Me: ah yes
- Me: 4am
- Me: perfect
see honestly i am the easiest person to impress because literally no one has ever really bought me flowers or taken me dancing or on a picnic or any of that romantic junk and i would just melt at any of it
sure, I don’t get a “healthy” amount of sleep like SOME PEOPLE do but can they do THIS *stands up, blacks out for a second*
Goals for 2018:
- Be better
- me: *overthinks everything and cries*
- *5 minutes later*
- also me: *sees funny post and laughs* oh okay im back
What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday, you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today…Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like as if you are three…Because the way you grow old is like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk.
Sandra Cisneros, Woman Hollering Creek and Other Stories (via archisoulspace)