Much Ado About Nothing

Where this was once my forum for writing my story, I've decided to keep that to myself. This is my personal blog now, with lots of horses, veterinary things, random gifs and articles, and things I like.


.. Never not wearing sunscreen ever again. I’m already like, freckle city.






my typical level of involvement in any fandom

(via passivelyhere)

*Lies in the dark. Stares at semi-visible window. Watches window sloooooooowly slide downward out of view.*



Also why I woke up at 3am is a mystery. Insomnia is not a tramadol side effect. The dizziness/itching/dry mouth/nausea are… but not the insomnia.

A big part of me is afraid of needing knee surgery. On my supposedly “good” knee.

I will be out of work for ages.

I will have no means of exercise and turn into a whale. More of one.

I will never get to ride again (which is how I got in this state but riding horses calms me… when the horses are sane, which was what I was told this horse was).

I am dizzy and in a knee immobilizer and afraid my medical director is pissed at me. And maybe that’s why I didn’t insist on going home today as much as I could have. See the work ins and multiple appointments and be a good girl for the technicians and put on a happy face!

Now to go to bed in the guest bed, not my bed, because I can’t climb into bed without crying.

Goodbye, Robin Williams.

You will be missed.

Watching a peaceful death of a human being reminds us of a falling star; one of a million lights in a vast sky that flares up for a brief moment only to disappear into the endless night forever.
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

I don’t know what is more sad to me… the fact that I feel like I can’t write on my own anymore, or that the longest thing I ever HAVE written by myself (during an age of reason anyway) is a 60K word unfinished fan-fiction of TMNT.

Depression is such a cruel punishment. There are no fevers, no rashes, no blood tests to send people scurrying in concern. Just the slow erosion of the self, as insidious as any cancer. And, like cancer, it is essentially a solitary experience. A room in hell with only your name on the door.
Unknown (via noirdunuit)

(via nutmeghatron)

If I didn’t love watermelon so much, I would have serious doubts about buying a 10lb monstrosity that MIGHT taste bad. They don’t exactly let you cut them open in the store, or anything.

But I love ‘em. So I do.