Of course my brain is like - wait, how was being a research assistant helpful? How did that prepare me for grad school again?? Blanking.
— Brené Brown (via aufwaerts)
— Soren Kierkegaard, The Sickness unto Death (via lecollecteur)
— Unknown (via glitterskank)
Happy birthday, Hillary! (born October 26th 1947)
It has been a shitty week, and I’m fucking tired.
I’m tired from being sick. Like, more painfully sick than I usually am. Tired from getting less sleep than I usually can scrape together.
I’m tired from feeling things over Dustin. Tired from having these imaginary conversations in my head where I tell him its not cool to basically ignore me for two weeks. You’re fucking busy? Yeah, me too, I’m busy too, but I can still find the time to answer text messages. Tired from having debates in my head over whether it really is a problem.
I’m tired from studying and coming to terms with the fact I didn’t study early enough, hard enough, or well enough to get even a bad grade. I would’ve settled for ‘not what I was hoping for’. I’m tired from the weight of the expectations I put on myself and the distorted thoughts which tell me I will never get into a good grad school program.
I have to say it felt good to cry about it, and then run around and kick things for an hour (soccer), and now I’m home but I’m still exhausted and in pain. And while I’m trying to make contingency plans in my head, can I just be sad about things for one evening? Tomorrow I will put on my adult pants and tell myself not to be a self-fulfilling prophecy of predicted failure. But tonight I am sad and I am eating twinkies I bought from the gas station.
Why does liking someone turn me into an emotional wreck?
— Judith Hanson Lasater (via alllways)