I know that’s the case with me. When I find someone who just clicks with me on a higher level, I can’t help but fall for them — especially with a best friend, which is a relationship as close and emotionally intimate as they come.

I guess it’s the feeling of being understood, as well as the ability to gush out your inner turmoil to the one person who’s there to comfort you. It could also be the security they instill, that sense of permanence and unconditional companionship we tend to crave (and then push away, but that’s another story).

I’ve had about four best friends and I’ve fallen for three of them, one of them being my current girlfriend of two and a half years.

What do you guys think? Any similar experiences?


I know ADHD has the potential of being an exhausting and crippling disability, but I remain on the optimistic side about my own personal struggle with it most of the time. Excelling in creativity, wit, and energy, it doesn’t necessarily hinder every aspect of my life.

But it does hinder the aspects that actually matter.

And as most of those afflicted with ADHD are brutally aware, school is something way, way beyond us.

School, however, is built up to be the one and only gateway to money, success, and happiness. We spend our whole lives digesting phrases that glorify education as if it’s your last chance at salvation. “Stay in school.” “Go to college unless you want to flip burgers the rest of your life.” “You need that degree if you want to achieve anything.”

But where in the spectrum of the academic world does that leave us restless souls with ADHD?

In a perpetual struggle with our self-esteem and wayward minds, that’s where.

I can’t help it if I feel as if I’m physically unable to execute an assignment in a competent, coherent manner.

It’s not under my control if my mind haywires and freezes up whenever I look at a question that’s more than two-sentences.

“Take your Ritalin!” “Do you need more Adderall?”

The medication does not dictate whether or not we will be academically productive. To those who haven’t taken any form of these medicines it seems so simple, except the fact that most of us end up spending the day reorganizing our closets and cleaning the house when we take the pills, instead of actually doing schoolwork.

There’s just no winning here.



Found this on Tumblr and it resonated with me.

Whatever “illness” you’ve been diagnosed with,

Regardless of whether people blame you for your own unhappiness or not,

Whichever pill or “cure” they prescribe you with,

You are you, and you are amazing the way you are. 

They may say that the mentally ill are a weight on society, but I’d rather think of us as the spice of life. We can be stamped and branded and stereotyped and misunderstood and tested on, but we are still people; we just happen to give the world a new perspective. 

I work at a resale children’s store owned my mom. It sounds bit cruel of me, but I’m not a huge fan of children. They’re loud and sticky and eat glue.

Who am I kidding? I’m all talk, no bite. If I had children, I’d love those miniature human beings more than anything, and the glue-eating may even be cute at some point.

Anyway, because I work at this baby store, I have the privilege of seeing the most loving of moms as well as the worst of them. There are women who leave their stoller-bound kids unattended while they indulge in sales. Children are in the play-area screaming bloody murder until I think their little lungs are going to explode, and the moms still proceed to ignore them. They put anything and everything in their mouths with slobbery abandon, yet whatever germs they’re now exposed to are of no concern to the parent. It’s ridiculous.

But I do have experiences that warm my teeny little heart. Today, the most adorable baby girl came in and I could tell something was tad off; not in a bad way or anything, just different from how I’m used to babies functioning. As suspected, it turns out that she had Down syndrome, but that didn’t stop her from brandishing this nonstop, genuine grin that she beamed at everyone. I’m serious, the huge smile never left her face.

Her mom was as sweet as she was, too. There wasn’t a moment where the mother didn’t actively engage her daughter in some way, whether it was showing her something, talking to her, or just acknowledging that she was there.

I’m sure it gets exceedingly difficult raising a special needs child and that hardships will be plentiful in the future, but that pure, unconditional love they freely give despite the strife is refreshing to see.

Kudos to all you mothers out there.

I think an appropriate first post would be what this blog stands for.

Society thrives on a dependence of labels. Homosexual, heterosexual, wealthy, poor, Republican, Democrat, etc. Some of these labels are necessary identifiers, such as your profession. Calling yourself a banker or sales clerk or entertainer has no negative connotation behind it , leaving you free to roam this giant space-rock in peace because, unless you’re a drug dealer or prostitute, you can brush off whatever stereotypes or stigmas your career may carry. No big deal.

But then the world begins to label other things, ones more personal, like what gender you happen to be attracted to or what mental illness has been debilitating you all these years. These labels for mental illness were designed to make it easier to single out what exactly is wrong, thus paving a clearer road for professionals to determine which specific aid needs to be given to which specific affliction.

Well, that didn’t last long.

Now you’re defined by your ailments and your diagnosis is used against you, your mind suddenly becoming weaponized by those who don’t understand. If you deviate from the norm at any degree, you’re weird. If you’re even a bit quirky or odd, you’re immediately considered foreign and strange. That’s the price of putting it out there, I guess — except you can’t really control whatever it is that you put out. That’s you. That’s how you’re wired.

And it’s a fantastic thing.

Because you’re not alone. You’re not weird or strange or abnormal. There are many, many, many more you’s out there and they’re all chugging along on the same track.

If you’re sick of hearing, “Oh, just stop worrying so much.” “It’s not hard, just don’t think about it.” “It’s all in your head.” “You can control your own feelings.” then come join me and let’s stop the world from treating you as if you yourself are the disorder.