trash flavored trash

jocelyn marie.
I like lovely things. I love loving things.
I wake up on my own time because my life rules.
I like taking baths without the bubbles
and taking naked naps.
I love my dogs more than I like most people.
I don’t believe in most medicine.
I believe in tea and marijuana.
I have a slight lisp but sometimes I think im sthexy.
Im married to a pretty cool guy;
he encourages me to live my life like a little princess
and I want to do the same for him.
despite the ugly things my silly mouth tends to say, my heart loves Jesus.

You don’t know anyone at the party, so you don’t want to go. You don’t like cottage cheese, so you haven’t eaten it in years. This is your choice, of course, but don’t kid yourself: it’s also the flinch.

Your personality is not set in stone. You may think a morning coffee is the most enjoyable thing in the world, but it’s really just a habit. Thirty days without it, and you would be fine. You think you have a soul mate, but in fact you could have had any number of spouses. You would have evolved differently, but been just as happy.

You can change what you want about yourself at any time. You see yourself as someone who can’t write or play an instrument, who gives in to temptation or makes bad decisions, but that’s really not you. It’s not ingrained. It’s not your personality. Your personality is something else, something deeper than just preferences, and these details on the surface, you can change anytime you like.

If it is useful to do so, you must abandon your identity and start again. Sometimes, it’s the only way.

Set fire to your old self. It’s not needed here. It’s too busy shopping, gossiping about others, and watching days go by and asking why you haven’t gotten as far as you’d like. This old self will die and be forgotten by all but family, and replaced by someone who makes a difference.

Your new self is not like that. Your new self is the Great Chicago Fire—overwhelming, overpowering, and destroying everything that isn’t necessary.

sights-unseen:

Baby

My sandpaper sigh engraves a line into the rust of your tongue. Girl, I could have been someone to you. Would have painted the sky blue, baby blue…if you knew. Baby blue. Edging closer, you swing my way. I’ve got no chance and nothing to say. But stay here for a little while. Baby blue. But if only you could see I’ve got a shadow crossing your path. It won’t be the last. Baby blue.

(via sights-unseen-deactivated201303)