Never Lose Hope

never lose hope

Mostly reblogging it to remind that wanting a life to follow the script in my head and wanting it to be full of chaos and plot twists AND having it intense and full of passion AND suffer a lot is not contradictory.

I don't know

Random anxiety in my chest

About finances, about life, about lack of certain things, about lack of certain chemicals in my brain and some situations.

I miss shallow distractions, having which, helps me cope with life's reality.

I miss having essence and texture in life

I'm in such discomfort of thawing my rigid disconnected self

Want my life to follow a script in my head. Want it to be filled with chaos and random essence- healthy or unhealthy. Mostly unhealthy. To keep fuelling me to avoid the mundane peace of sorts.

I want life's plot to have twists and turns and intensity

I want a life that matches the Intensity and passion of my heart and mind

I dont know

Excerpts from the diary of an old rotten soul

ADHD brain during downtime?

In fifth grade a boy tried to impress me by swallowing a whole tadpole live and I punched him so hard that he puked and the tadpole was fine.

I saw a post saying that Boromir looked too scruffy in FotR for a Captain of Gondor, and I tried to move on, but I’m hyperfixating. Has anyone ever solo backpacked? I have. By the end, not only did I look like shit, but by day two I was talking to myself. On another occasion I did fourteen days’ backcountry as the lone woman in a group of twelve men, no showers, no deodorant, and brother, by the end of that we were all EXTREMELY feral. You think we looked like heirs to the throne of anywhere? We were thirteen wolverines in ripstop.

My boy Boromir? Spent FOUR MONTHS in the wilderness! Alone! No roads! High floods! His horse died! I’m amazed he showed up to Imladris wearing clothes, let alone with a decent haircut. I’m fully convinced that he left Gondor looking like Richard Sharpe being presented to the Prince Regent in 1813

*electric guitar riff*

And then rocked up to Imladris a hundred ten days later like

Sir Crocodile