"I was interested in everything and committed to nothing."
fuck fuck fuck fuck
why is my mind so hard to maintain. why can i be full of energy, warmth and hope and then bam. gone. i’m the worst. can’t look people in the eye. have nothing to say.
i’m sick of this! i feel so down.
"Life is hard. But there is so much good shit too and so many adventures to be had. Let go of the idea that you have to live up to a particular standard or even have dreams or goals. Just explore and breathe deeply and feel shit strongly. Us sensitive people don’t always realize how lucky we are because we feel everything really intensely. Even the good shit. The trick is learning how to feel and appreciate the depth and richness of all of our emotions and experiences without getting too attached to any of them. If you are to the point where not living feels like an option to you then it is time to live the shit out of your life! Fuck it. Go do crazy shit. Everything you have ever wanted to do. Find a way. You can."
"In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you."
Giovanni Ricci (Giampietrino) 1525 The Death of Cleopatra (detail)
It’s been a long while since I’ve been thinking the blog name should be changed. “Maddie on things” does not seem fitting anymore…
Maddie is super rad though \m/
Q. what did the cheese say to the moldy cheese?
A.you look unwell i will take you to Dr cheese
sitting in bed with tears hot on my cheeks, snot all over my fingers, as I chew at my nails and grab at my skin.
despite all my convictions about people and beauty and what really matters, my head is swimming with dysphoria. it’s so specific and it burns me. I can look past so much, my soft thighs, my stretch marks, the many ‘errors’ of my frame, but it stings when I look down and I can’t come to terms with just being what I am. it’s heartbreaking and frustrating. I am so distressed, knowing that I let something so stupid, so fucking petty and so culture-specific take a toll on me this way. I sit in my bedroom in my house in my well-off boring suburban neighbourhood with food in my fridge and diamonds on my fingers and I cry because my breasts don’t look the way I think they should. they sit where they like and they aren’t full like I am so damn sure they’re supposed to be and they aren’t the shape I think they should be and the sight of them gives me a jolt in my stomach and I want to tear at myself and for the life of me I can’t fucking rationalise these feelings.
I think labiaplasty is horrific. It genuinely hurts me to think that someone could be so upset with the way they are, so sure that they are supposed to be something else, look some other way, be different - that they’d let someone take a scalpel to their genitals to nip and trim and edit and ‘fix’. Breast augmentation. I feel less horror towards it, but that’s because it’s so common, I understand, I crave it. and that makes me so angry with myself. I think about other places in the world. places that aren’t here. places that I haven’t been to. people I don’t know. cultures I don’t understand. people that are poor. people that don’t know anything other than nature. people that are perfectly happy in their lives, completely removed from my own, from anything I know. people that don’t see their skin as something that is right or wrong. people that don’t see themselves as something to edit and mutilate and contort to fit a specific mould. people that would consider spending thousands of dollars for someone to cut you open and rearrange your chest horrific, ridiculous. people who see, who understand, life as more than that. our culture is ridiculous. it’s destructive and hate-breeding. why is what we are not enough.
bullshit. petty, petty bullshit.
a moments weakness breaks through the charade that I’m so fine and I’m so okay and I’m so content with what I am.
why is it farce, why can’t you be
why can’t you just hold yourself, stand tall, and not bite your lip in shame
why can’t you trust that it’s okay to just be
I need to be in love with myself because otherwise my thoughts about this world are hypocritical bullshit.
People are beautiful.
We are beautiful.
It doesn’t matter what elements of yourself you can’t come to terms with - you don’t need to come to terms with anything
You are what you are
WHY THE FUCK ISN’T THAT ENOUGH
I love you.