is my name but only coworkers and collections agents call me that. I grew up being told it means “god is my judge” but it seems that the more literal translation is “the judgement of god,” which is way better. I used to hate my name, but I’ve grown quite fond of it over the past few years.

So. This is the place where I keep saying I’m going to write, and then instead I just reblog pictures that I like in an attempt to make people think I’m cool, or something. So now I’m going to post something, anything, every day this month (ignoring the fact that it’s only the 4th and I’ve already failed at my mission twice).

I’m also following more text-based tumblrs lately. If you have one, or know of a good one, I’d certainly love to hear about it.

Also, this post is kind of dull, so here’s a silly picture everyone else has already seen.

I didn’t spend nearly so much time in bed before I bought this fucking duvet. It’s transformed my mediocre mattress into a sanctuary, a warm welcoming nest holding me and keeping me safe from the outside world and I don’t even care if I never learn to fly.

I may have to set this thing on fire before Spring has passed.

is a character flaw

I’ve wanted to die since I was eight years old. I couldn’t understand why, if death was inevitable, life was necessary. Or desirable, for that matter. It seemed cruel to need to live out a life, full as they are of work and pain and loss, as if we need to earn our way to the finish line. But the reward is the same, regardless of how you live, or how long. So what’s the point?

My mother didn’t care for the question. Grown-ups never had good answers for me, and so they didn’t like to talk about it.

But now I’m an adult, and I have pills to help me with questions like these. It helps not to think about it, and the pills help me to think less, or whatever it is they do.

I still wonder, though, what spark of life exists in other people that I am missing? Where does it come from, and why am I lacking? Why is everyone else so capable at ignoring the fact that we’re all just waiting to die?

But it doesn’t feel that way, not really. I don’t feel like I’m missing anything at all.