When you have nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.

To be young and loved and feel it in our bones

Even when I detest all things about me down to the very way that my synapses fire, even when my worries sting jagged and raw in the middle of the night, even when I'm so very taken by my own helplessness that I can't even look you in the eyes... still, you love me.

You know. You know without knowing, as I sleep curled up around a pillow in your bed even though you're not tired, that sleeping next to you was the first peaceful sleep I've had in weeks. And so, you let me sleep, you cover me with a blanket, and you wrap your arms around me until I wake up.

Today is when I knew. I suppose I've known since that first time I kissed you in me somewhere, but today felt like I'd never really looked at you before now. Today as you said, "Goodnight sweetie," as I was drifting off, I realized that what you did for me today isn't what boyfriends do. It's what you do for the person you want to be with for the rest of your life. 

I told you that I was sorry for who I was. And you were adamant. "Don't you ever say that. Not to me. You can be sorry that you have an anxiety disorder, but never apologize for being who you are. If you weren't who you are, I would have no one to love." 

When you said that to me, perfectly punctuated with kisses, like it was straight from a movie, I cried. I couldn't help it. That paragraph of words meant more to me than anything has in my entire life. I cried, but not out of fear or sorrow. I cried because it's the only thing to do when I am me and you are you. 

I love you, I love you, I love you. These are the only words I ever want to say.

I've gotten to an incredibly dangerous place. I don't want to go to college.  I don't want to spend time with my family. I don't want to be loved by anyone. I don't want to go near anyone or anything  because I don't deserve it, and I don't deserve it because in my own mind I am dying and I'm only going to complicate it all, only going to cause them pain.

The world is not fucking fair. Why is this happening to me? I feel like I'm bargaining with someone and all this blog is anymore is one big pity party. But it's so much deeper than that. This blog is the worst of me.

I don't even like the best of me anymore. Not tonight, anyway.

I've never had a panic attack like this before. I don't know what to do except blog about it because I can't talk to anyone because how the hell do I take someone I care about and drag them into this? Besides, you're the only one awake and how could I do this to you again?

I've never had a panic attack before but this must be what they feel like. I'm trying to talk myself down from it.

I just want my mom but she's not here.

I want to throw up. I can't stop shaking. I have never felt this before. My normal abstract sense of fear has been replaced by pure, centralized terror. I have never been more afraid in my life.

I have never hated myself or my life more than I do right now. This is too much for me. I cannot handle this. I cannot fucking handle this.

I keep almost throwing up and my throat burns and my head hurts and fuck what I would give to be anyone, absolutely anyone but myself right now. I hate myself. I am the worst possible outcome for a human being. I have the whole world out in front of me but I can't even leave my own mind to bask in it.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck this, fuck all of this.

I don't even have anything to say right now except that I am so sick of this. Life has no point to me anymore. My life is defined by one worry to the next.

Lately, you know what it's been? Two main things, really: a brain tumor and esophageal cancer. 

Tonight is not a good night tomorrow will not be a good night it will never be a good fucking night and I give up completely on everything life has to offer me because I can't enjoy any of it. 

Fuck this entire world. Fuck my life. Fuck all of it. 

ansiedad, desvelos.

Siempre, todas las noches.

Clara Oswald appreciation post.

"I don't know where I am. It's like I'm breaking into a million different pieces and there's only one thing I remember: I have to save the Doctor. He always looks different. Sometimes, I think I'm everywhere at once, running every second, just to save him, but he never hears me. Almost never. I was blown into this world on a leaf, and I'm still blowing. I don't think I'll ever learn. I'm Clara Oswald. I'm the Impossible Girl. I was born to save The Doctor."

So when we first meet Clara, she's not Clara. She's Oswin, the girl in a shipwreck on the planet of the Daleks. No, she's a Dalek. She's a genius, and she's been converted to a Dalek, and she doesn't know it. She's been locked in an asylum because she couldn't handle the truth. But she saves the Doctor, and she dies. Then, we see her again, and she's Clara from Victorian London. She's a barmaid and she's a nanny. But she meets the Doctor, and she saves him. She dies helping him again.

And then we meet Clara Clara! We travel with Clara for most of a season, and we get to know how she's kind and she's brave and she's feisty and she's smart. But we also have no idea how she's Clara from present-day London and she's Clara from the Dalek asylum and she's Clara from the Victorian age. She's the Impossible Girl.

But here's the thing: she's just a normal girl. She's not River or Amy or Rory, she's not important in all sorts of weird ways. She's a normal girl who did something extraordinary, and she's only a mystery because first things first, but not necessarily in that order. We get to the season finale and it all makes sense! The Great Intelligence goes inside the Doctor's time stream to destroy every victory he ever had. He does it for revenge. And then Clara, she picks up on it: this is why she's all of these people.

And she doesn't even cry. She doesn't even blink. She tells him to remember her, and she smiles and she sacrifices her whole being to save the Doctor. Even when River tells her she will die, that everyone else will just be hallow copies of her, her response is, "but they're real enough to save the Doctor, right?" 

It's 8:30 in the morning, I am tired, and I just watched a bunch of Clara episodes, but let me tell you this: if you don't love Clara Oswald, you're wrong,

It is eight.

And I am trying to make the best of a bad situation.

I want to curl up into a ball and cry until this fucking presence is gone from me.

Sometimes I feel like I would rather live a year in peace from this and die before my life even begins than live like this until I'm old. I know that's what I'm afraid of, but Jesus Christ, I'm so sick of living in fear. It's literally driving me insane. 

I feel like I am about to shatter into pieces. I feel like I keep shattering into pieces, over and over again, and I keep sweeping myself up and trying to put myself back together but I'm ugly now. Everything inside of me is so ugly. And I'm getting tired and I'm getting lazy because I can't keep this up. The pieces break more every time but I can only do it so much before I am pulverized and beyond repair.

There are times these days where I wish I wasn't even alive anymore. I don't want to kill myself by any means, but I don't know why some creator, or whatever original cells even bothered to keep on dividing because my DNA is riddled with nonsense. I am riddled with nonsense. Congratulations, deoxyribonucleic acid, your cytosine and guanine and adenine and thymine have added up to be this bullshit of a person right here.

I feel like Jonas in The Giver. I didn't ask to have this stuff in my thoughts. I don't want to think this way. I just want to be blissful and ignorant and Jesus Christ I just want to be happy. I can't handle it anymore. Every single one of these episodes drags me closer and closer to desperation and madness. 

I fucking hate this. 

My mom and I are in a big fight right now because of how late I slept today. I know I could have set an alarm and woken up earlier, I guess, but I didn't mean to sleep as late as I did.

And I guess that's not an excuse but she doesn't realize that I didn't mean to sleep as late as I did because I didn't mean to stay up as late as I did. I wanted to go to bed hours before I actually fell asleep. We all know why I stay up late here.

And I know, if I don't tell you, then it's not going to mean anything to you. You're just going to think I'm lazy. And maybe I am.

But I've also just got a lot more going on than you realize. I just can't tell you how bad it's gotten. I just can't.

progress is what happens when you finally get help for your skin.

confidence is what happens after.

Here I was, the stage set for some sort of mental breakdown tonight. The sobbing, the tears, locked in my bedroom alone trying to listen in hopes my parents wouldn't wake up, it all felt a bit too angsty teenager for me. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't get a hold of myself.

And then you texted me. I don't know if you did so because you knew I needed something or if it was just some damn good timing, but you are a warm blanket and a cup of coffee in the backseat of my ride away from whatever snapping point I've reached this summer.

I'm gonna be okay today and its because of you. I'll be a goner if you ever leave.

infierno está hecho a mano

Yo no creo en un Dios, pero si Dios quisiera castigarme, mis miedos serían un método muy efectivo.

I hate myself more than I ever have, and it has nothing to do with appearance. I hate my arrogance. I hate my pride.

I thought I was smart. I thought I was intelligent enough - me, a worthless teenager- to outwit an undiagnosed anxiety disorder. I thought reason would be therapeutic and rationality would be medicinal. I thought I was smart enough to trick myself into being a normal person.

But I am so insignificant. And this, above any standardized test or all that ridiculous money my college education is worth, proves that I am a stupid, foolish woman.  I need help and I have needed help my whole life. 

I know my fears are stupid, but that does not mean they don't paralyze me. They do so completely irrationally, and I'm aware of that, but that only adds frustration. It does not subtract fear.

And here I am, eighteen years old, having what people with mental illnesses seem to call "one of my bad days" and I realized that my "bad days" have just become "days." 

And this only happen because I was too stupid, too much of a pompous little shit with my GPA and my pseudo-philosophy and imagined insight into the human soul. That weird I've-got-the-world-figured-out attitude that every kid gets in high school when they get fancy new words like "superfluous" and cars and a sliver of independence was what made me think I was apparently the exception to the entire world, I guess.

And instead of making life bearable for myself, I continued to pride myself on the obstinance I had cleverly mislabeled as "self-reliance" until I became the crumbled mess I am today, younger and more scared and more clueless than I've ever been, very close to the edge of emotional stability.

Everything about this was very preventable. Even though I've spent over a decade with this problem, the months that are to come frighten me more than anything ever has, mostly because I'm afraid of the person this anxiety is turning me into.

I just want to be a strong person again. I just want to be brave. I just want my happiness to be pure. 

anxiety is a dirty word.

My anxiety makes me hate being alive.

I don't mean that in a suicidal way. I love my life. I love what happens in it, and I love the people in it. I love my job, my family, and my friends. I love my town and my home. I love my pets. I love everyone's pets, actually. I want all of these things to continue for as long as they can.

But it does. It makes me hate sometimes the actual act of living carried out over days and weeks and months and years. Maybe living isn't the best way to put it. I hate my conscious mind. I hate what my conscious mind does to me. Basically my mind is a TARDIS and my anxiety is the Master who hijacks it and turns it into a paradox machine. There totally aren't any flaws in that analogy, right? 

I just needed a little comic relief from this, because I am having a lot of trouble stabilizing myself lately.

When I am by myself, be it in my best friend's basement after she's fallen asleep or staring at the blank white box of this blog before I fill it with words, I am not okay. And people try. They really do. They tell me I'm fine and they listen to me, but they shrug off my fears and continue on with their lives. But I want to shake them and say, "Don't you see? Don't you understand that there could be something wrong with me, that I could be dying? That  I could never get married? Never have a daughter and braid her hair? Never go to a bar for a legal drink? Never travel out of the country? Don't you realize that one pain in my head could be the first sign of something that could take everything that I ever planned for myself and throw it out the window just because of a bad gene or because one goddamn cell in my body formed the wrong way? Don't you see how close to dying we all could be?"

But that's not fair. They should never think the way that I do. I would never want anyone I care about to have these feelings because genuinely feeling like you are going to die is far worse than any time I have ever claimed to be depressed or upset or angry or stressed or anything I have ever imagined. It is the most painful thing I have ever felt in my entire life. And I'm not stupid. I know I'll die someday. I just want to die having accomplished the things I always dreamed of. But now, I'm afraid to have dreams at all. I'm afraid of becoming a would-have-been. 

I don't understand how anyone likes being human. Being a species intelligent enough to form religion to cope with death and create a moral code, to make machines fly in the sky, to explore other planets and smash atoms together to form elements that  don't even exist in nature... being human has not protected me from having a mind that knows better than to turn on itself like this. I look around and I think about dying. I don't understand how people are so fucking lucky that they can have a persistent headache or a pain in their chest and not worry about it. (Unless it's necessary to worry, but everyone else is so good at knowing when it is necessary to worry.) Everyone focuses on the future because they feel like they have one. 

And here I am, and I want to indulge in those thoughts too. I do. I could be at an exciting time in my life because the whole world could be ahead of me. I want to think about the degree I may pursue and my future career. I want to think about being a wife and a mother someday and the stupid things I want to do with my family and where I want to get older and what vacations we will take and what kind of house will I buy. But I can't. Every time I do, I start getting achingly sad and scared because I can't shake the feeling that I will die from something before any of that happens. All I want is to look forward to the bright future I have ahead of me, and instead, any real thought I put into it nearly ends in tears because I don't want to die. I just want to have a happy life but all I can imagine is dying before any of it happens. These hypothetical situations, ones that probably won't even actually take place, are the most heartbreaking things that have ever happened to me. 

Yet I carry on. I go through the motions. I graduated high school. I'm going to college with a full-ride for the next four years. But I can't even find any point to it anymore. Degrees are for people with a future. Degrees are for people who grow old. I don't know how much longer I can handle thoughts like this because they are tearing at every single good thing I have in my life. Even you. And I absolutely refuse to let it affect you. 

And at night, oh god, at night. It's bad at night. I can't even close my eyes to go to sleep without trying to calm myself down. Why? Because I'm absolutely terrified of dying in my sleep. Why on earth is this even an issue? For one - if I have something so wrong with me that I could die in my sleep, not going to sleep isn't going to magically make me live a long life. Also - people don't just die in their sleep for no reason. But this is what I do at night. This is where my mind goes, every night now, without  fail, and I am beyond the point of rationalizing with myself. I'm beyond the point of help, I fear.

And all of that, all of that is just with myself. I see death everywhere. It absolutely amazes me I've gone years without losing anyone that I love. All I think about anymore is how many people die in car accidents in a given year or how many people are victims of rape and murder and all of these horrible things that could happen that I can't prevent. I worry when it rains and I know people who are driving. I worry when my friends or parents or boyfriend goes out of town. I worry incessantly, and it is none of these people's faults that they have lives and want to do things and actually live like functional human beings and it is not fair for me to worry like this and make them feel sorry for me or for things that they shouldn't. It's absolutely ridiculous of me to feel any of this. I am genuinely angry with myself for it. 

I don't know how I am able to keep myself together. I don't know how I'm going to wait until August 8 to go to a counseling appointment. I never should have let myself go this far without talking to someone. My biggest regret in high school is not sacrificing my pride to talk to a therapist sooner. I could have gotten a handle on this before it got this out of control. Back then, it used to be an annoyance. It used to bother me sometimes at night, and I would go through spells, but it would fade and I could make it day to day. But I'm struggling here and I need help from someone and I just don't know what I'm supposed to do until then.

Despite any external forces, I'm terrified that this might be the worst summer I've ever had.

Si yo fuera a Costa Rica para estudiar, yo podría decir «Ticos». Ahora quiero ir allí.

Miedo y muerte

Pienso en la muerte sin cesar. Pienso en enfermedades fatales y me preocupa que yo no pueda controlarlas. Esta noche, tengo miedo de morir en mi sueño. 

Este estilo de vida no es saludable, no es sano. Me daña  mentalmente, y me acuesto por la noche, despierta, y me preocupo hasta yo lloro de una mezcla de frustracíon, miedo, y agotamiento.

Si algo pasara a mí, necesitas saber esto: eres el amor de mi vida, y yo habría te casado. 

jodida mierda como esto corre por mi mente todo el tiempo. Es una manera nauseabunda de vivir, y para mí es dificil seguir adelante. Para mi es dificil, tal vez imposible, vivir una vida normal y feliz.

tú has encontrado un lío de una mujer con quien pasar una vida.

Reflecciones de madrugada.

Todo el tiempo me pregunto sobre nosotros. Me preocupo y me preocupo y me preocupo, pero ya sabes que estoy preocupada sin cesar. Y, por razones que no entiendo, todavía tú me amas.

Pero, a pesar de mis miedos,  tengo esperanza contigo. Espero que yo estemos juntos por siempre. Espero que no canse de mi.

Siempre yo perteneceré a ti.

My name is Haley and the world is too much with me.

Practicing self-hypnosis so I might not think it's 9000 degrees in here 

Like seriously why the fuck is it this hot

Dad you fix air conditioners FOR A LIVING

FOR A LIVING

I don't know where four in the morning came from. It was a blitz attack.

I wish I weren't riddled with the simultaneous hatred of my own appearance and impatience to change it. I have accepted my body and what I look like, but that doesn't mean I embrace it. In fact, sometimes I look in the mirror and  hate myself for looking the way I do.

But hey, I have no one to blame but myself. I make up all these excuses for myself when it all boils down to my inability to see the long-term. I get discouraged if something is not instant. This is a major character flaw.

I have a lot of those. I guess that's why I always have these negative speculations at four in the morning. 

I'm trying to cope. I need either to embrace what I look like who I am how much I weigh or I need to fix the things that I can fix. I can't pout about it anymore. It's destructive. 

I'm other news Jesus fucking Christ its hot in here.

food for thought.

1. It is really fucking unladylike how I just ate those ribs. I couldn't help it. They were so good I could cry.

2. Gauer - I give you a lot of shit, both to your face and sometimes for the things you do that infuriate me. But today, when you moved my car close to the back door in the pouring rain, moved my seat back where it was, and turned on my windshield wipers and my heat for me, it was one of the most touching gestures that anyone has done for me in a long time. Thank you. I know I should just take it at face-value, but it really meant more to me than it should.

I really do feel sometimes like the people who work at Baskin Robbins are my family. I don't know what I would do or who I would be if I had not gotten a job there. They have a special place in my heart, and my life must have been so boring before these clowns came along and made it infinitely better.

Reverence.

I don't tell you enough how sexy you are, but I should because it is ungodly how sexy you are.

I want to write in graphic detail about every single inch of you I'd like to kiss and how you blur all my senses together when I can feel your breath against my temple, but there are things to put in writing on the Internet and then there are things you keep on a phone notepad with a password.

I just hope you know how attuned I am to you by now. Nothing would be the same without your familiarity.

Babblin' on.

1. You were a cloudy, thunderous morning, but I was always wishing for rain.

2. Your spend so much of your time trying to create a certain impression of you that you forget you don't need to convince me. I already know who you truly are, and it's not who you become when others are around.


3. You are so caught up in what you think is best for me that I think you have long forgotten to take a moment and ask me what I want.

4. Your selfishness is going to be the reason everyone forgets about you in the fall.

5. I am nothing if not loyal. I am nothing if not with you. It genuinely scares me how much I need you. You are entirely unprecedented.

6. I could make myself physically sick if I ever let myself think about all the things that you will not live long enough to see.

7. I hate the way that you treat your daughter. You chose to be a parent with your carelessness, and she deserves more than you're giving her right now. You're still just as selfish, immature, and reckless as the person I met years ago. (Also, the occasional Facebook picture with your child does not count as parenting.)

8. I worry that your habits will indirectly but inevitably keep me in this entirely unpromising town for the rest of my life against my wishes.

9. It still bothers me sometimes how we ended because I hate myself for being so insecure that I put myself in a destructive situation instead of building up the confidence to remain by myself.

10. I am incredibly lucky to work with someone like you. Your constant positivity and [slightly-more-than] occasional ditziness is always a bright point in my day. I wish I knew how to tell you how good of a friend you've been to me.

11. I have a dermatologist appointment in the morning and I'm scared it won't help me get rid of my acne. My attitude toward it has come to impede personal growth.

du hast aus einem gebrochenen mädchen die glücklichste frau auf erden gemacht

ich liebe dich.


I just want you to stop for a minute and imagine someone romantically whispering that in your ear, and then I want you to vomit.

there is no better post on the internet than this.