1. "Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
    took the bus home,
    carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
    and cooked myself dinner.
    You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
    This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
    worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
    only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
    and slept like a rock.
    Flossed in the morning,
    locked my door,
    and remembered to buy eggs.
    My mother is proud of me.
    It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
    She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
    with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
    But she is proud.
    See, she remembers what came before this.
    The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
    how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
    She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
    These were the bad days.
    My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
    My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
    Depression, is a good lover.
    So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
    And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
    That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
    It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
    Today, I slept in until 10,
    cleaned every dish I own,
    fought with the bank,
    took care of paperwork.
    You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
    I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
    but I don’t speak for others anymore,
    and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
    And my mother is proud of me.
    I burned down a house of depression,
    I painted over murals of greyscale,
    and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
    But today, I want to live.
    I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
    or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
    I just cleaned my bathroom,
    did the laundry,
    called my brother.
    Told him, “it was a good day.”"

    Kait Rokowski (A Good Day)

    oh my goodness. I have no words.

    (via taytippett)

    (Source: justsingyourlifeaway, via thriller)

  2. (Source: sukabu89, via disgustinghuman)

  4. totallytransparent:

    Transparent X Ray GIF
    Made by Totally Transparent

  5. bobbycaputo:

    Surreal Photos of A Frozen Venice

    Art director Robert Jahns has created a series of surrealistic photos of Venice by combining photos of Italy by Luis Manuel Osorio Fernando with photos of frozen lakes in Russia by Daniel Kordan. Robert Jahns wanted to show how the Venice Canal would look like if it was frozen by the winter.

    (via skanksters-paradise)

  6. littlecatlady:


    Growth & Repair

    March 9th, 2012 - 14th birthday
    March 9th, 2013 - 15th birthday
    March 9th, 2014 - 16th birthday

    oh wow this is lovely

    (via wolfoftherapture)

  7. kookootegu:

    Joy wasn’t quite awake when she went to go get a drink this morning and yet she still managed to look incredibly satisfied afterward.

    (via fyeahgeckos)

  8. (via lozenge34)

  9. theaccretion:


    A little history of my scars

    1. age 18, my very first scars. originally cut by me with a scalpel. at 19 I had the late Nate Hudson in Portland brand over them again.

    2. age 22, skin removal autopsy cut by Brian Decker out of Brooklyn. fresh and freshly healed.

    3. and 4. age 24, three tiny scars on each side and the third line below my original scars on my chest. cut by Simone Kross during bdsm session.

    5. age 25, exaggerated C section scar on lower abdomen cut by Brian Decker.

    6. age 26, long slash marks across chest and side cut by Brian Decker.

    Since I’ve been getting a lot questions about the scars recently, for those of you who don’t already know.

    A true work of art.

  10. afrocentricmisfit:

    she is a magic woman.
    brown skin.

    (via disgustinghuman)