Coming back from my smoke break that took no more than 5 fucking minutes just to find some random dude in my station looking through my fucking bag his reason “i was looking for a pen” MF GET OUT OF MY BAG GO LOOK IN THE KITCHEN NOT MY PERSONAL BELONGINGS
I'm so afraid this disconnected feeling will make me forget what I am and who I want to be, but it's so helpful to just not be such an emotional wreck. This dulled sense makes me feel 'functional,' but like this, all the feelings are hazy and dim—both for good and bad.



































