There are moments when I think I really have it figured out - something specific, like my aspirations, my definition of love, what it is I find fulfilling. Then there are days when I question whether it’s all illusory and predicated on false notions of happiness, and satisfaction. Am I really just a product of society? Might I really be happier leading a simpler life? What is the driver for more, other than a desire to see what more there is? How can I know, either way? I wish I could live every possible permutation before I had to decide the best way to live. Is every decision, no matter how well thought out, really just a shot in the dark? I don’t want to wake up one day just to realise I have been living someone else’s definition of a meaningful life.

i cant wait to have my own home, bake some bread, look out of the window, water the plants… i’ll get there

get in loser we’re thinking about the youth you lost while experiencing mental illness