I recall the day when I asked my mom if I could shave my legs and she said, “if you want to but once you do, you have to do it forever. I would just wait” but no. I thought my legs were just too hairy. Much hairier than others. My anxiety started at a young age. And now I wish I had never started. Like ever. Because razors and bleeding and pain and expectations and stuff.
"Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else, but just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes."
— The Winter of the Air (via minuty)
Never go on adventures without your trusty sidekick. xoxo Zoey and Jasper
where do you get Cheetos that big
that’s a chihuahua
Those are carrots.
this post is a mess.