Meet Pickles, aka “Catosaurus.” He was rescued in Boston and he’s over 3 feet long.
wear your armor
whether it’s makeup, a band tshirt, your fandom pins, tattoos, jewelry, your favorite ripped pair of jeans, or something no one else can touch or see like your favorite song repeating like a mantra in your head, the sound of your own heartbeat, or the knowledge that you were brave enough to get out of bed today when everything else inside you said “no”
wear your armor and kick ass
As an overweight person, I cannot eat my depression.
As a responsible adult, I cannot indulge in drugs for my depression.
As the child of alcoholics, I cannot drink my depression.
I am left to feel my depression, and I am tired.
It’s ironic that is the 21st century—now 2014—and yet I’m still crying on my couch feeling more alone than I could fathom. I have no one to text, to cry to, to console. I have to pick up myself and I’m fucking terrible at this. I don’t even know why I’m so depressed. Probably ringing in the new year on my aunt’s couch alone. No one bothered wishing me a happy new year except one girl I barely speak to. Maybe I’m being needy and bitchy. I do have a lot to be thankful for: my health, a change for an education, my family and friends. But right now in the middle of the night with tears streaming down my face I couldn’t feel more alone.