lose ourselfs

A thank you to Taylor

This is a little hard. I’m not the type of person who easily opens up. I don’t even know if I should post this. But I’ll just push that self doubt to the back of my mind for now. I have battled depression since 7th grade. It comes in waves. Some are stronger then others. Some make me feel so alone, so small, so insignificant. I’ve gone through times where I hated myself, I didn’t want to be the person that I saw looking back at me in the mirror. I still go through phases like that. I’ve gone through dark times, where I wanted to take my own life, but I never did. We’re all struggling to be someone that we’re not. Someone that everyone would like. Someone who’s successful, even if it means losing ourself. Sometimes we just need to stop. Stop and realize that as long as we keep doing things because of other people, things that we think will make someone like us, or make someone else proud, or make someone love you. Before we do those things, we need to think about what we want, what we want in life, what are our passions, our likes, our dislikes, our dreams. We need to stop pushing ourselves further and further away just to make someone like you. I went to school to be a nurse because it made my mom proud. It made my family proud. But..but it didn’t make me proud. Nursing is a wonderful career but it’s not the place for me in this world. I lied to myself everyday, saying it would get better, I’ll learn to love it just stick it out. It’s stressful having someone else’s life in your hands. I love people. I love meeting new people. But I don’t like watching people die. I finally decided to make a change. To go after biology. I’ve always wanted to work with animals. As a child everyone could see that. After I informed my family, a cousin of mine told me it was about time and she never understood why I chose nursing. I felt okay. But my mom… She raised my brother and me by herself, I watched her struggle putting herself though school and working full time just to make sure that she could give us everything she didn’t have. My mom is my everything. She’s my best friend. And she was the one who tried to convince me to stick with nursing, that maybe I didn’t find the right job, maybe it was just the place I was working at that is making me feel that way. All my life, all I ever wanted to do was be like her. And to hear that she would rather me stick with something that was causing me so much agony just hurt. But I enrolled for biology classes at the local junior college even with all the doubts in the back of my mind. And it wasn’t until August 21, 2015, that I felt like I did the right thing. That I made the right decision for myself. Thank you Taylor. I really needed to hear that clean speech. I’m on the road to finding myself right now. Thank you so much @taylorswift . I know that I’m constantly going to be doubting my every move, wondering if it’s right or wrong. But I’m willing to take the risks, so that one day I can have a job that I look forward to going to

When we find ourself losing motivation and drive, it is not uncommon to “go back” to old habits and old relationships to make us feel “safe”. My message to you today is PLEASE do not do this. Think about how much you have grown, how much you have learnt, how much stronger you are now. You have so much more to DO. You got this girl. www.kaylaitsines.com/app

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Drunken Problems pt2// Carl Gallagher

Teen wolf/Shameless crossover pt2

A/N: this is a part two to drunken problems, and btw requests are open

Warnings: talks about sex, weed involved, caring malia, pissed liam

Word count: 742 words

(Y/N)’s p.o.v

“i mean like who the fuck does he think he is?” i asked no one in particular. my right hand gripped my hair as i yanked at it.

i looked at carl who lit up his blunt and took in a long drag. the smoke then came out of his nose and mouth.

i studied his facial expressions and bit my lip, his eyes were closed, lips ajar, and smoke surrounded him.

damn he looked like a a god.

“pass me the blunt” i demanded.

“sure thing babygirl” carl said while passing the blunt and leaning down to kiss my neck.

“i love it when you call me that” i croaked out.

“i know” he mumbled on my neck.

i brought the blunt up to my mouth and took a drag.

smoking was new to me, a few days ago i was feeling curious as to what it felt like to smoke, so I had lip-carl’s brother. take me to a corner store and buy me a pack of cigarettes, he taught me how to hold one, light one-basically everything i needed to know.

and now here I am, standing outside smoking marijuana while i was a supposed target on the deadpool list.

how was that even possible, i’m not apart of the supernatural. i mean yeah I hung out with people who were apart of it but hell never would i ever think I would be on the list.

malia’s p.o.v

“scott we need to go after her, she’s not safe. i mean look at the guy, he was about to fu-” liam started.

“don’t you dare, (y/n) would never sleep with him, she’s not that type of person. she’s saving herself for marriage” i argued.

“yeah, and how would you know that!? when i walked in she was barley wearing anything!”

“oh shut up liam! god. no wonder she didn’t wanted to tell you they were dating, you do nothing but bring her down, she’s young let her have fun, let her make mistakes!”

“she’s fucking what? they are not dating, no. my sister would never go for a gallagher!”

i snorted. “you obviously don’t know your sister then, they have been through hell and back, they have been criticized by everyone who saw them together they love each other!”

“she’s thirteen, she doesn’t know what love is!”

i stared at him, I was seethed.

“oh yeah. how about i read to you what she thinks about love!”

i pulled out my phone and opened up my conversation with (y/n) from a few days ago.

“she says ‘love-i used to believe it was bullshit, I used to think that no one would ever give two shits about me but then i met carl, he brought out a whole new me, he told me i was special, that i was beautiful, and that i deserve so much more than a mother who’s never there, a dad who walked out on me, and a brother who doesn’t care about me anymore. we’ve both ben through shit, my family slowly falling apart while his, completely broken, a father who’s a junky a mother who’s never home; usually doing drugs and sleeping with men, and a sister who tries; a sister who tries to raise him and his siblings right, all alone because their parents no longer cared. he told me that it was me and him, agents the world, step by step we would conquer all. i’m his queen, he’s my king. together we’re one. our bond will never get broken, instead it will only get stronger as we continue on. he showed me the true meaning of love. we made a promise to save ourselves for marriage, but a few weeks ago. we decided that when the moment is right we would lose ourself, it’ll be romantic. he’ll go slow, he’ll whisper things he loves about me in my ear to calm me down. i would mark his body with love bites to let everyone know he’s mine, and when we finish he’ll lay down beside me and tell me he loves me. and i’ll say-thank you for showing me what love is’ ”

i looked up from my phone and saw that liam was I longer in the room and the others were all looking down.

i sniffed the air trying to find liam’s sent. i found it and followed it outside.

Part 3?

“I is someone else,” Rimbaud wrote in triumph to a former teacher of his- grammatical mistake intended- upon discovering, at the age of sixteen, that he was a poet, launching the concept of chaotic multitude of personalities, rather than a solid and stable I, as the foundation- or absence of foundation- essential to any poetic creativity. And if we imagine these principals of creativity in reverse- the same rules applying to the experience of art as to the making of it, we would see that in order to fully appreciate the work at hand, we have to let go of ourself as individual beings, thereby, at least for a short while, allowing a stranger¨s paradise- or hell, if you like- to possess us, to become us, fully and completely. Art teaches people to become someone else. Or at least, at its most powerful, it opens an abyss in peoples notion of who they are. It brings out the ótherness in us, simply by preparing us to share, as we say, somebody else´s fate, to the point of taking their identities as our own. Eventually, we all is somebody else. Or we possess the ability to be so, if pushed far enough. It´s a lovely and frightening idea, the dissolution of the I as its ultimate fulfillment, We are rent asunder, we lose ourself, and then regain ourselves, for the sake of loosing ourself again.

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