Just had the most unsafe journey home in a long while.
Inspired by every student whose told they can’t be an artist because it doesn’t “make enough money”.
It’s a nice idea and all but no, no it is not this easy and this simple to just up and do what you enjoy doing and survive off it. Even the “making way more money doing what you hate” doesn’t actually make it all that easy to keep a roof over your head.
Unless you live with your parents that “warm home” is gonna be at least $700 a month counting minimal utility usage and food probably another 200 if you’re living off really unhealthy junk.
And if it was so easy to just go start a store or a business there wouldn’t be so many people struggling regardless of their SUPERB fucking talent and skill, namely most of the people I know on the internet.
This is a really sweet comic but a really well meaning person but it’s so unrealistic that it serves more as a painful reminder of reality’s harshness.
This whole ‘do what you want as if money was no object’ is such a privileged point of view. Sorry, but money IS an object.
And that’s also not counting people who literally cannot disobey their parents because they’re unemployed or trying to find work and their parents are the ones supplying their food and the roof over their head. And it’s also not counting college students and graduates who are drowning in relentless debt and facing complete destitution just to pay for their education since you need a fucking degree to get any sort of well-paying job nowadays.
Money may not buy YOUR definition of happiness but god damn, ninety-thousand dollars that I’ll probably never earn in my entire life falling into my lap would solve practically all of my problems and lift a whole ton of stress off my shoulders. Money fucking matters in this society. It really, REALLY fucking matters.
My doctor told me I should move out because living with my mom is hindering my healing process.
But I just spent $1k on car insurance and $300 on a parking pass and like $50 for my appointments yesterday and my medicine is like $10/month and my therapy is $20/week and I just feel like it’s in no way financially feasible right now unless I legit only pay rent and never eat or use utilities because my part time job ain’t going to pay all those bills and I don’t want to overwhelm myself by being a full time student with a 15hr/week volunteer commitment and two jobs and a research assistantship since I’m not at that level of emotional stability just yet.
Like legit that’s the only advice I ever get from people is to move out, but it’s a lot easier said than done.
Just got back from therapy.
So far, so good.
The first time I tried therapy (at age 12 or 13) my therapist told my mom things without asking me and it just made my life worse because my mom would do the opposite of the therapist’s suggestions and harass me in the car on the way there and back about what I’m depressed about, I’m not really depressed, I need to stop wasting her money, am I sure I still want to go, etc.
The second time I tried therapy (at my university, at age 18 when I knew everything would be confidential) they stopped me mid-session and told me they can’t help me here and to go somewhere in the community because I needed long term weekly therapy “for at least 2 years” and shoved me out the door.
So this time I get there at the ripe old age of 20 and everything seems good. She had a strange face on when I talked about my history of abuse and my past in general, which made me feel uncomfortable, but I kept going. I think this time around things will work out better.
In preschool I played a wild thing in a play of Where the Wild Things Are, but my headband with my horns was too big and it slid off when I tried to hop around.
I was such a cutie though.
I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I won’t apologise because I miss you, or because I said it, or because I text you first, or again. I think everyone spends too much time trying to close themselves off. I don’t want to be cool or indifferent, I want to be honest. If I love you at 5AM, I’d damn well rather that you know I felt it. If I love you two hours later, I’ll tell you then too. Listen, I won’t wait double the time it takes for you to text me back because I don’t want to. I don’t care enough to be patient with you. I’m happy, you made me feel that way, don’t you want to know? So that’s how it’s going to be. I’m going to leave myself as open as a church door. And I’m going to wake you up before the crack of dawn to tell you that I’m fucking joyful, no pretending, not from me, not ever. Would you like some coffee, would you please kiss me? Here, these are my hands, this is my mouth, it is all yours.
oh my god
also tmi but i think my antidepressants started to give me energy this past Sunday or Monday and I felt really angry for a day and then really average and I still feel average and not really all that happy but my sex drive is coming back which is frustrating because I would rather it not, especially if I’m still sad/grumpy.
supposedly they’ll start kicking in for real though around Tuesday so that will be awesome.
my nude photoshoot I had planned for spring break has to be rescheduled. ;u;
thats okay though it gives me more time to prepare and whatnot and think of cool ideas/poses.