I am fucking mentally done and it’s only Monday.
Fuck you, you person I won’t name and you won’t care because you are ultimately not even part of my life and why am I letting you get to me it’s just work and I leave in 22 minutes and can forget about you until tomorrow when things will get resolved and I will have been all worked up for no reason.
Okay. I’m better.
Life is a gallery of photographs.
Each moment is a frame.
Why, in any of these frames, would you want something you aren’t passionately and proudly enamored of?
Sometimes I like to feel dirty and ugly and not give a fuck about it whatsoever.
I woke up with a cough - pretty sure I’m getting sick. Sean has his day off. He wakes up and leaves the room. I assume to watch tv or to make himself food. He comes back to the room ten minutes later with a cup of tea (in the mug he made me at color me mine) and some vitamins. It’s easy to forget he loves me because sometimes he puts up a front, but in these little moments, I’m reminded, and it’s a feeling that spreads everywhere inside me and through me. I think this is the first time in my life I’ve ever really been loved.