just a sad cat stuck in a human body

you are killing your own peace by thinking too much

Sometimes you can help with the sadness of others, but not with your own.

Having a singer-songwriter best friend is awesome, especially when that friend is well-read and knows how to spill her heart into words. She told me there are a few songs about my last relationship, my mental health, and my depression. This was the only person who saw me break down, go quiet, disappear, and fall apart. Those moments were turned into music my emotions woven into lyrics and she said to be pretty good, even loved. I’ve asked many times to hear them, but the answer is always the same. Not yet, not until there’s certainty that I’ve healed and truly moved on. Otherwise, “old wounds will bleed again.” Maybe that’s right. Maybe not. Who knows.

You know what’s been bugging me recently? I’m good at certain things, but not the best at them.

I’ve realized my empathy is reserved only for the ones I love and for animals. When strangers cry, whether it’s a child or an adult, I feel nothing. I’m not sure if that means I’m protecting myself or if something in me has shut down.

you hit that magical age when noise and music stop being the same thing, and you realize Zemfira is basically the musical version of instant noodles oddly nostalgic, kind of bland, and definitely not gourmet.

Watching your childhood friend get bullied because she married a famous actor twice her age. it's diabolical and kind of funny, not gonna lie🤣