butts

I like to call my chickens “beasties” or “fat little monster trucks” and other such affectionate terms, but dad seems to take offence whenever I do and always gently refers to them as “the girls,” “the ladies” and sometimes “the dames” when he’s putting them away, like he’s a butler shepherding a group of well-bred country lasses into the parlour for tea 

this post evokes such a pleasing mental image that my depression was completely cured for 5 and a half minutes

Me: Doctor, why is that syringe filled with glitter? Doctor: Anaesthetic.

Self-care is watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine until the sound of opening titles alone is enough to make you feel like things are okay

ever notice that the mean voice in ur head that insults u is awful confident for something thats literally never done anything in its life except be mean to you… like… one of us is pathetic and its not me buddy… get a hobby… yikes

self care is roasting the mean voice in your head

am I sick from anxiety or am I actually physically ill? a memoir by me

am i lazy or horribly depressed: the sequel

does everyone hate me or am I just very insecure: the completion of the trilogy