A collection of dismantled almosts
Social Work, ASU, sex, work out, Queen Bey, gay-friendly, activist, hopeless romantic

There’s two types of anger one is dry and the other wet and basically wet anger is when your eyes water and your voice shakes and I hate that cause I feel weak when I’m crying while angry I like dry anger when your face is like stone and your voice is sharp I guess wet anger shows that you care too much and dry anger means you’re done.

(Source: i-mahu, via lovemetoinfinity)

I have been desperately begging the universe to give me something to dwell on, because up until about 2 weeks ago my life was seemingly perfect, and it was creating a type of anxiety that I couldn’t explain. For my entire life, I have always had something to complain about; may that be a daughter of a single mom, a product of an absent loving home, not having a boyfriend, or being so stressed out I wanted to pull my hair out. But, none of those were applying for nearly 2 months, and for some reason, I felt more lost at that very time than I ever did as a person with issues. I was graduating college, I had a guy who was madly in love with me (and he was British and wealthy, WHAAAT?!), several close friends, and a budget that allowed me to go drink a decent amount on the weekends and still gave me room to order that latte I needed every morning to cure my hangover (Monday’s really aren’t all that bad). 

But, about three weeks ago, everything literally changed and my entire world went from seemingly perfect to a wrecking ball of madness. The British guy decided we needed to break because “the distance” and my best friend became like the worst person I had ever met, and not even due to her actually being a bitch, but due to her being someone I couldn’t trust because she thought my emotions were too difficult to handle if she didn’t lie to me. On top of it, I barely know how to make my rent, let alone utilities, for the month of September, but I am too stubborn and full of wanderlust (and let’s be honest, desire to take some wicked awesome photography) to cancel my trip to Washington, DC next week. 

Thus, my life. It is again in ruins. But now, I feel comfortable again. I feel like I can look at my life now and understand that this shit is actually the greatest shit, because it’s living. I never realized how much my anxiety and depression help me really understand the worth of life. Even though I’ve attempted two suicides and have had to go to a “behavioral health hospital,” I surprisingly have a wonderful outlook on life. Thus, being a “broke post graduate” is nothing but just another bump in the road to help promote my resiliency. 

Before you know it it’s 3 am and you’re 80 years old and you can’t remember what it was like to have 20 year old thoughts or a 10 year old heart.
- This is the scariest fucking text post I’ve ever read (via fuckinq)

(Source: anitaspallenberg, via vodkacupcakes)

Training to Up Your Mileage.



Back when I first started running, I couldn’t even run a mile without feeling like I was going to just keel over and die. Like, seriously leave me on the street to die because I refuse to run 50 more yards. It’s not happening, home slice. But I kept running for the same reason a lot of people do: to get in shape. 

Somewhere down the line I had this really good run, and I experienced for the first time, the famously life-changing runner’s high. I was hooked. And now, here I am. And accomplished marathon runner who frequents in races and actually enjoys running. 

But upping my mileage wasn’t easy for me. I started out maybe doing 4-5 miles a week, now I run on average between 20-30 miles a week. There are various steps you can take to actually upping your weekly mileage, and here are some of the things I did to help myself become the runner I am today.

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