May. all you need to know is what you see here. constant queue

I’m in Newcastle at the moment, staying with a friend I met on tumblr.
Everything is lovely and I’m having a great time, but she’s at a job thing right now and I’m restless.
This has absolutely nothing to do with her because she’s an actual sweeheart.
I just feel stuck in my mind and my life, even though I really don’t have a reason to. I will meet someone of the university I want to go to when I’m in Liverpool. When I get home I have an internship waiting. I’m having a divine chai latte with soy milk at Starbucks.
But still I’m at a loss for words and actions, just wanting to shut off my mind. When I make a mistake or mess up my order I feel like I want to kill myself and that’s not normal.
I’m sorry for making you read this. I’m sorry for sounding like a dumb bitch. I really am

rainmoth:

Dinard by littlek_stopbythecorner on Flickr.

I really wondered why people were always doing what they didn’t like doing. It seemed like life was a sort of narrowing tunnel. Right when you were born, the tunnel was huge. You could be anything. Then, like, the absolute second after you were born, the tunnel narrowed down to about half that size. You were a boy, and already it was certain you wouldn’t be a mother and it was likely you wouldn’t become a manicurist or a kindergarten teacher. Then you started to grow up and everything you did closed the tunnel in some more. You broke your arm climbing a tree and you ruled out being a baseball pitcher. You failed everyday math test you ever took and you canceled any hope of ever being a scientist. Like that. On and on through the years until you were stuck. You’d become a baker or a librarian or a bartender. Or an accountant. And there you were. I figured that on the day you died, the tunnel would be so narrow, you’d have squeezed yourself in with so many choices, that you just got squashed.

Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home (via ohteenscanrelate)

(via nairawen)