Another Month Wasted. Another Day Another Week, And I Think To Myself. If All The Time I've Spent Living

Another month wasted. Another day another week, and I think to myself. If all the time I've spent living is wasted, then will I ever truly be happy? My mother calls it ambition, my father drive, but I? I call it unhappiness. My mother also often talks of how to be smart is to be sad, and to be dumb is to be happy. I wouldn't trade my smarts, my tongue, my brain for anything but if that is how one is truly happy, is it worth the price? If I'm smart and aware of the world's dangers and problems, then how can I ever be truly happy? What is it to be truly happy? To be happy must you not be aware? I do not know. All I really know is another month has been wasted.

-C.

Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary, August 1921

why must it always be 'peppering'. why can't i salt my lover with kisses. paprika my lover with kisses. 3 tablespoons chili powder 2 teaspoons ground cumin 1/2 teaspoons oregano my lover with kisses

*releases pack of dads into home depot* go……be free

Y'all ever have to deal with some bullshit from sexist men who insist that they're not being sexist even though they are and there's nothing you can do and-

"It's something so lavish you know, the grace of inaccuracy." -CH

I just finished a notebook I have been slowly but surely working on for the past five years. I literally can't describe a better feeling as someone who doesn't often finish things they start :)