I’m not a Tumblr famous. I love it when a red number appears above my inbox icon. If someone followed me, I smile and it makes me happy. When I lose a follower, I ask myself why. When someone hates me, only few people comfort me. When I make a text post, I seldom have notes for it. Almost all of my posts are reblogged from other users. When I hold an honesty hour, you can count with your fingers the people who ask. But despite the fact that I have not much follower count, I am proud of my blog. Why? Because the person who is reading this right now chose to follow me. :) I love you followers.

(Source: w-intersonata, via d-o-w-n-p-o-u-r)

reblog if you’d care if I killed myself tonight.

(Source: yourownmiley, via crazydaisyrandone)

My goals for the next five months

1) learn to drive

2) get a job

3) get a car

4) register for fall courses at the local community college

5) discuss in detail my bipolar disorder and anxiety with my girlfriend so she understands

6) make friends in the area, not online. (as great as you all are, you don’t get me out of the house)

7) try and better understand this “invisible illness”

8) volunteer at the arts center

9) get back down to 141 lbs (as rough as that will be)

10) make next set of goals

deathcomesupon:

The Loneliest Whale in the World.

In 2004, The New York Times wrote an article about the loneliest whale in the world. Scientists have been tracking her since 1992 and they discovered the problem: She isn’t like any other baleen whale. Unlike all other whales, she doesn’t have friends. She doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t belong to any tribe, pack or gang. She doesn’t have a lover. She never had one. Her songs come in groups of two to six calls, lasting for five to six seconds each. But her voice is unlike any other baleen whale. It is unique—while the rest of her kind communicate between 12 and 25hz, she sings at 52hz. You see, that’s precisely the problem. No other whales can hear her. Every one of her desperate calls to communicate remains unanswered. Each cry ignored. And, with every lonely song, she becomes sadder and more frustrated, her notes going deeper in despair as the years go by. Just imagine that massive mammal, floating alone and singing—too big to connect with any of the beings it passes, feeling paradoxically small in the vast stretches of empty, open ocean.

(via siarraculbertson)