and i just waste it; this life of mine. hand over hand. the days slip in between each other and nestle in ugly spurs. what did you do today? how many hours have i spent, neither truly here nor truly there. just frozen. wanting desperately to begin anything. get up and shower or work out or drink water or make a change or dance along or be a person - just get up. my insides, coating the edges of blank atrophy. how hard can it truly be? people do this every day. they make their life every day. why can't i? why am i stuck here? why am i stuck like this, with only my heart and no boat? the shifting warning - you need to start swimming, you can't always just float. but what else, when my limbs don't move and there's no sound for the breach of my throat? what else, and where am i going? what shore am i supposed to even be wading out for? nothing and nothing and nothing. the swinging, empty bridge, and no railing.

the club penguin staff would never treat their users like this is all im saying

treat me better xxx

Miki Kim

haven’t had much to say lately. just collecting thoughts and letting them simmer like a good soup . waiting

romanticize your life. i cannot stress this enough. use scented shower gel and shampoo, so you look forward to showers. go on walks and see how pretty the sky looks. notice the wildflowers on the roadside as you drive. light a candle when you get home to make your room smell good. notice & appreciate the little things in life. it won't cure your mental illness, but it'll make it easier to exist in this world.

Putting myself gently down in a tub of boiling hot water feels so good… god should’ve made me a bag of tea honestly

you can’t heal in the same environment that made you sick.