THEY HAVE NO CHILL
I’m really hoping that one day, if my anxiety is really high at the clinic, and it’s a particularly bad day where i’m being yelled at and tested by customers and superiors alike, that my body’s natural reaction would be to throw up.
Like a disgusting defense mechanism.
That’ll teach ‘em. That’ll teach ‘em to treat me like a human being.
"Yes, hello, I am an adult."
I’ve been feeling pretty down lately. Honestly, this is no one else’s problem but my own, however I feel maybe talking about it would be therapeutic in a sense.
I’m a recent college graduate who managed to find a job fairly quickly; surprising given the current state of the economy. I don’t want to complain about my job, because I know I am very fortunate to have one, if any at all; I actually really like my job most days.
However, I have severe anxiety issues that, I figured, might go away once I started working. The job has really only exacerbated them. Talking and/or being firm with people stresses me out, handling money stresses me out, answering phones stresses me out; all of which I do at my job on a daily basis.
The only job i’ve been able to find is this, it’s a part time; I have no student loans to pay back (something I understand is also fortuitous, and cannot complain about), no major bills to pay, but I still can’t seem to make ends meet. There is always too much month at the end of my money, and no matter what I do I can’t seem to make it stretch.
Is this what adulthood is? Simply becoming complacent, being a person that hates their job and literally only works in order to make enough money to be broke all the time?
I don’t feel like an adult; especially since I still have to rely heavily on my parent’s generosity. I still like drinking out of sippy cups and buying stuffed animals. When will I stop feeling like i’m still 12 trapped in the body of my 23 year old counterpart? When will my responsibilities stop giving me so much anxiety it’s hard to pull myself out of bed in the morning?
I don’t know. I’m just saying a lot of words. I don’t mean to complain about my privileges, but I don’t think being an adult is for me. I know there are 23 year olds out there (people who are even younger, I would imagine) who must be better suited at adulthood than I am.
Again, i’m not sure if there was a point to this other than to spew words in a string of colorless, lifeless sentences. It’s just been one of those days where everything snowballed into a deep sadness.
That’s it I guess.
Bad writing is more than a matter of shit syntax and faulty observation; bad writing usually arises from a stubborn refusal to tell stories about what people actually do― to face the fact, let us say, that murderers sometimes help old ladies cross the street.
—Stephen King (via maxkirin)
Toothless is so cute here.
HIS NOSTRILS ARE PINK ON THE INSIDES
YOU CAN SEE THE EDGES OF HIS SCALES
HE’S STILL COVERED IN DIRT AND SOOT FROM THE FIGHT
DREAMWORKS WHY ARE YOU SO AWESOME
how could you not want a toothless on your dash
can we talk about hiS EYES