Brute Reason

A collection of thoughts about psychology, social justice, and anything else I give a shit about.

Topics: feminism / psychology / lgbtq / sex / politics / abortion / health / mental illness / language / depression / sexism / sexual assault / fashion / racism / education / social justice

my actual writing, if you're curious

Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.
— Kait Rokowski (A Good Day)

(Source: justsingyourlifeaway, via gruntledandhinged)

  1. sane-on-the-surface reblogged this from r-en
  2. consulting-stiff-in-the-tardis reblogged this from alostcompanion
  3. i-deserve-to-take-up-space reblogged this from food-is-glorious
  4. itsfrench reblogged this from weedbrain
  5. justwhatiiiam reblogged this from dancingwhilewedishwash
  6. nextu-you reblogged this from sparrowfern
  7. ninjamuffin14 reblogged this from million-galaxies
  8. mknzz reblogged this from ostentatiousnarcissism
  9. resrieroo reblogged this from judyweirdo
  10. dancingwhilewedishwash reblogged this from weedbrain
  11. v-nicol reblogged this from silhouett--e
  12. silhouett--e reblogged this from ostentatiousnarcissism
  13. am-bi-vert reblogged this from teenagepollyanna
  14. million-galaxies reblogged this from rebellion
  15. rebellion reblogged this from weedbrain
  16. saidthelioness reblogged this from spotkalosiezszerokimrozglosem
  17. spotkalosiezszerokimrozglosem reblogged this from little-sliceofnope
  18. cigsandlatte reblogged this from teenagepollyanna
  19. r-en reblogged this from ostentatiousnarcissism
  20. little-sliceofnope reblogged this from ostentatiousnarcissism
  21. judyweirdo reblogged this from ostentatiousnarcissism
  22. chloroforium reblogged this from ostentatiousnarcissism
  23. towhommay-concern reblogged this from ostentatiousnarcissism

blog comments powered by Disqus
Ultralite Powered by Tumblr | Designed by:Doinwork