I hate being sick. Not because of the headaches, not because of the drowsiness, not because of the medicine I refuse to take. I hate it because it renders me weak—it renders me useless.
Talking becomes a struggle when speaking up for myself is already difficult enough. My clumsiness and forgetfulness escalate to their maximum—suddenly I’m bumping into people left and right, forgetting this, forgetting that. I am hit with fatigue repeatedly and cannot complete my own work.
And suddenly, I start relying on people way more than I should. I hate it. I hate being dependent. I hate being a bother. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I hate being patronized. But it’s my own fault for acting like such a child.
that some people
are born to give
than they will ever
If sleep is for the weak, then I must be weak as fuck because I need a hell of a lot of it.
Went to bed with a heavy heart and woke up with an even heavier one.
Rivers and Roads - The Head and the Heart
Nothing is as it has been
And I miss your face like hell
IT’S ALWAYS TEA TIME!
I THREW A GRAPE IN THE AIR TO CATCH IT IN MY MOUTH BUT IT WENT TOO HIGH AND HIT THE CEILING AND THERE WAS A SPIDER THERE AND THE SPIDER FELL AND SO DID THE GRAPE AND THEY BOTH LANDED ON MY FACE AND I STILL HAVEN’T STOPPED SCREAMING
i read the first line in my head in the tune of call me maybe im so stupid
I threw a grape in the air
I went to catch it I swear
It hit a spider that fell
and now they’re on my face