anonymous asked:

chessy!!!!! my therapist helped me come up with a really cool thing to cope with the 'who da he k am i' aspect of bpd and i wanted to share with you.. so she had me make a list of things that i would eat/listen to/look at/wear on my happiest day. and when i feel unsure and pathetic and lost i just look at/do/listen to things on the list!! for ex- orange rhyming dictionary by Jets to Brazil is a really happy album for me so when i feel cloudy i put it on!! hope this is useful for u!! xox

i love this!!! im so glad you’ve found something that helps 🌬💕

orange rhyming dictionary starters II
  • Cut the heart out of your chest, they’ll come for that as well.
  • Why don’t you start crying for all that you’ve got left here?
  • Why don’t you stop dying before you go and get it right?
  • You cut the heart out of your chest to let the light in through your arm.
  • Must keep writing if I’m to be better than everyone else.
  • Living in a hotel, but I’m not traveling.
  • Between two points in mid-air, I’m levitating.
  • In my three feet from bed to wall, there sleeps a genius.
  • Leave me here to my devices.
  • They’re playing love songs on the radio tonight, I can’t relate to that right now.
  • Note to self: no one cares, your voice is average.
  • I will begin, I will put right, this morning terror.
  • I have been kissed between the ears by human error.
  • They’re playing love songs on your radio tonight. I don’t get those songs on mine.
  • You keep fucking up my life.
  • This day could someday be an anniversary.
  • Living by the hour, I stop for every flower.
  • Like they handed me my life, for the first time it felt right.
  • Thank you for making me see there’s a life in me, it was dying to get out.
  • Touching you, I start to bloom.
  • Thank you for taking me from my monastery, I was dying to get out.
  • For the first time it felt worth it, like I deserved it.

Jets to Brazil - Sea Anemone


  • Listen


Jets To Brazil - I Typed For Miles 

There are fantods that come from, more than anything, slipping up. Not the slight-of-hand, err-of-tongue mistakes but the too-soon/too-late-turn, wrong exit, six-hours-wasted-so-give-up-and-go-home mistakes. The ones that start from rotten ground and grow crooked. The ones where the wrong answer comes from input overlooked, and the results are like like rabbits. Rabbits or insects or some kind of new math germinating into restless self-abuse. Where, afterward, proportion disregards perspective and the whole thing weighs you down in ways that seemed unimaginable when you thought you had the answers - not all of them because I doubt anybody really thinks they have it all, but enough to get by.

I was going to start this month out with a much less known song by a band from Connecticut but I guess this one probably works better because it more directly relates to the rest of the songs I’d like to post, and the things I want to talk about: writing, connectivity, people, apologies, music itself. Maybe we’ll get to the other band tomorrow.

Note to self: No one cares.

I am 23 years old and from Rochester, New York. I tend to live like a hermit and when I am let out into public I have this embarrassing habit of to talking too loud for too long. My name is Brian Latimer.