10 lbs of Crazy

:)

(via dreaming-and-wishing)

Something I think a lot of us, me DEFINITELY included, need to remember more often.

(via dreaming-and-wishing)

smilelaughandloveee:

preach.

Exactly. What he said.

Yes, please!

(via dreaming-and-wishing)

That is precisely what I’m doing right now. I’m dreaming of all the things I want to do in my life, and all the things I would rather be doing than sitting at my desk procrastinating on that exam paper I should be starting.

Wouldn’t you love to be exploring the streets of Paris, right now? Galloping a horse across sprawling fields in Ireland, under an uncrowded sky? Taking a cooking class in Italy? Obsessively taking pictures in Istanbul? Adventures, exploration, wondrous new experiences, this is what I dream of.

Someday. Someday I will do all those things, and so much more. My feet long to sprout wings, and fly to someplace else. Someplace totally different from anywhere I’ve ever been. But for right now, here I am. In my little box of an apartment (nice though it is), staring out the window, wishing for adventure, and trying to justify more procrastination by blogging about it!

It’s a bad pic (taken on my phone) but these are the remains of the marks made from snapping a rubber band against my wrist 3 days ago. I was trying to keep myself from cutting, after 14 weeks and 2 days of successfully resisting, and it totally worked, but it kinda freaks me out that there are still visible marks 3 days later.

On the one hand, I feel all motivated and like “let’s do this shit!”

But on the other hand, I just want to sit and watch TV and do nothing and even thinking about actually working makes me want to curl up in a ball under my desk.

How the hell is it possible to feel both these things at once??? And yet, somehow, this happens regularly. And I’m still trying to teach the motivated side to win.

Snow! =D

Part of me thinks this blogging thing could be a lot of fun. That part of me is rather excited. But I’m bipolar (BP II, which means 97% depression and only 3% mania), and this is one of those times when my meds don’t seem to be quite pulling their weight. As a result, I’m sitting here trying to figure out how the hell I’m good enough to write a blog. The thoughts currently running through my mind include the following, bulleted for your eas[ier] comprehension:

• This could be really awesome! I can share all my pics and quotes and random thoughts and talk about anything… =D
• What? Are you fucking kidding me? You bitch too much. Nobody wants to hear your shit.
• Well I won’t bitch the whole time! I don’t always feel like bitching. I have fun stuff to talk about too.
• No, you’re pathetic. If you actually post the shit that’s in your head on here like you’re talking about doing, you will be read only by haters who think you should shut the fuck up, if anyone reads at all. And they would be right. Who really gives a flying fuck about your inner turmoil? Even if you do have an occasional amusing thought. No.
• But…but… :(
• Yeah. That’s right. No argument to be made.

I swear I’m not actually schizophrenic… I just argue with myself when I’m depressed (and half the rest of the time). This always happens in the evenings, at least around this time of year. Doctor’s appointment Wednesday, thank god! Hopefully he’ll be able to adjust my meds so they actually work again… And, perhaps, I’ll be able to write something that doesn’t make people want to shoot their (or my) brains out. :)

hellyeahjustlikethat:

I’m done.

I’m reblogging this for the young man who stole my heart, saw me through the worst time of my life, then dropped me like a blighted potato. I miss you. But I will never tell you again.

(via hellyeahjustlikethat)

It’s not the stories I have problems with, it’s the beginning of the stories. So, fair warning, this could be a rather odd, and possibly awkward beginning. 

I can’t say what this blog will end up being like. Not because it’s a secret, but because I have no idea myself. But this is me. Plain and simple. …..hahahaha, okay maybe not so simple! I have a friend who likes to tell me I’m an intrinsic conundrum. And I would have to agree with him. I confuse myself!

I am rather opinionated, blunt, and very, very easily sidetracked. I like to think that I don’t give a flying you-know-what what people think of me (haven’t decided yet how much language I’m going to allow myself…but I’ll probably end up giving up on the idea of “family friendly” or whatever) but back to the point. I like to think I don’t give a flying you-know-what what people think about me, but let’s be honest, most days that’s total bull. I don’t care what assholes think (already given up on no four-letter words…but asshole isn’t four letters, is it?), but anybody who has a chance of being a friend I do try to be relatively socially acceptable. 

I mean, does anybody honestly not care at all what people think of them? It’s sort of a human thing to want at least a little bit of approval. Because I actually sort of do care, I smother my naturally straight-forward, say-exactly-what-I-think self. Not something I’m proud of, and something I’m trying to break myself of. Playing social mindgames is not only inconvenient, but tricky and uncomfortable. At least for me. Plus I find them absurd. If everyone said what they thought, people would be much more comfortable, and likely wouldn’t get their egos crushed so easily. But maybe I’m totally off. 

Anywho, that’s my little rant on the obnoxiousness of restricting free speech for the sake of being accepted and liked. I don’t plan on doing that here. So consider this my little disclaimer: I will write what I think, all filters off. My intention is not to insult anybody (unless I’m outright insulting somebody) but I won’t change me (at least in writing) to accommodate egos. Fair warning, this is NOT a PC blog. That is all. :)

**Edit: On another note, it’s snowing! YAY, SNOW! Okay, done now.