Thank you. The past 11 months or so have been by far the most mentally unwell I've ever been. I've been hospitalised for less, but seeking help seemed so pointless this time. Please do check in with yourself though. It my feed just makes you tense or worried - step back.
Not sure, but sketched out a few ideas. I'm pissed off, to be honest, as that would've been a reliable income at a time when I'm too unwell to do much else. I can't claim benefits because my partner works. So, I'm not sure, and possibly too recently wounded by it to have a clear idea.
The Chickens. They might have said they were coming to roost coz I've got The Cows in the spare room, Cathy on the sofa bed, and we'll just have to hope that Just Wait Until Your Father is an unsubstantiated threat.
The verve and seemingly genuine belief behind this message should inspire us all. But let's take a moment to reflect on the fact I am sat cross legged on my bed periodically crying, and contemplating the fact kofi's nudity policy makes it highly likely I will never own a wardrobe.
Probably never, hun, coz my fanny just ain't all that. If this is supposed to make me feel weird about selling titty pics, it doesn't. It's honest graft, and the only way I am appropriately remunerated. So kiss my flaps 😘
Ooh, OK. 1. Dancing Queen. By absolute miles, if we're honest. Pretty close to a perfect pop song 2. One of the weird ones off The Visitors where they properly hate each other 3. Super Trouper. But needs a dark cover pls. 4. The Day Before You Came. 5. Voulez-Vous. First I heard of its kind
I've got a bit of a knack for spotting second-hand clothes I can upsell*, but I think I like this shirt too much to sell on. *not an endorsement, you'll make about 50p an hour for your labour.
At some point were we asked to make predictions for the tournament? because I just found these words in a random document
Mumsnet are horny posting about Thomas Tuchel? He looks as if Nile Crane were serving life for triple murder.
In case anyone doesn't know, it's really cute. I was working for the LGBT Fdn and Mr. S was a social work student on placement there. Oh, and I was fully gay, or so I thought. We hit it off massively, but it still took us another 4 years of friendship to find that there was something else there ...
Just all of every summer. My best mated lived over the road. Six weeks lasted a year in grown up time. We were outdoorsy and had heaps of space, so every day was a joy. Water fights. Tree climbing. Jumping off of shit. Constantly made each other wheeze laughing. Sandcastle, Blackpool holiday treat.
I persisted long past breaking point with a course that was entirely wrong for me because I am a fool and a coward. I cannot guarantee I will learn from this.
"I hope you captured those year when you were kissed by the beauty only youth can imbue" "yep"
Looking hot isn't everything, but I wish I'd taken a couple of sexy photos during my peak years. Every photo in my early 30s, delicately treading that sultry line between youth and experience, looks like this.
I keep going to make an appt with my GP about my ragingly awful mental health, then remembering I don't know the magic words to avoid all this bollocks and go straight to a psychiatrist who knows about funky medication adjuncts.
Derek Jarman's "Fuck Me Blind". The way his work starts as all clean lines and sedate colours then becomes impossibly baroque, appropriately seedy, fiercely political, and then how quickly AIDS floors him, but he's raging against the dying of the light right up until the end.
When you were a kid and their mum had these pants and these nails, you were in for a helluva sleepover.