The continuous narrative of existence is a lie. There is no continuous narrative, there are lit-up moments, and the rest is dark.
—Jeanette Winterson (via observando)
Everyone who terrifies you is 65% water. And everyone you love is made of stardust. And I know sometimes you cannot even breathe deeply, and the night sky is no home, and you have cried yourself to sleep enough times that you are down to your last 2%. But nothing is infinite, not even loss. You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day you are going to find yourself again.
—Finn Butler (via observando)
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.
If I’m being completely honest, I don’t think I ever did.
I don’t believe in myself anymore, like the Tooth Fairy and Santa Clause and everything else you stop believing in when you grow up.
I feel like I don’t even exist
Shoutout to my dad for surviving his second heart surgery nearly two years ago to the date. He is the most honest man I’ve ever met. He works so hard to provide for me and our family, to put me through college and to subsidize my sister’s makeup addiction. Can’t imagine life without him. I know it’s cliche, but I could not feel more blessed to still have so much time with him.
But at the same time, every year around this month I become unbearably distraught and depressed because I can’t help thinking that I won’t have enough time to spend with him, that I never could. His dad died when he was in college, and history repeating itself is my biggest fear.
Love you Dad. Please don’t leave me, you’re the only stability and reliability in my life. The doctors may have replaced your aortic valve but mine feels like it’s been ripped out.