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Obsessions

Being obsessed with animals is cute.  Being obsessed with goal-chasing is inspirational.  Being obsessed with learning provokes praise from those surrounding.  Being obsessed with image? Pathetic.  Being obsessed with the small details of each day? Anal-retentive.  Being obsessed with anything short of sunshine? Provokes pity from those surrounding.  In short, obsession is bad. Obsession is sweet. Obsession is controlling. Real obsession, that is.  It wraps its long and twisted arms around your neck and it wrings and wrings.  Obsession does not just show up like a unexpected houseguest; It slithers into bed with you. Slowly at first, so slowly that you are not even aware.  And then eventually, you feel its presence lingering beside you in the night. You should probably check on your dog at the foot of your bed , it mentions. Is she still breathing? It asks.  And then it is sitting across from you at breakfast. That's a lot of syrup. It observes as you pour the

Too Much

Ivy and I are pretty much interchangeable, save a few minor details. Regardless, I’d like to think of her having to deal with mental battles like the rest of us do. Sometimes too much growth within the mind can easily overtake you. It doesn’t matter if you attempt to snip at the rapidly-spreading thoughts, for if they have taken root, they will more than likely persist with time. Often people who are in pain desire nothing more than to prevent everyone else from feeling similarly. I think my girl Ivy could be one of those people.
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Reasons why : 1) I love my godpups and pups 2) Doodling is like therapy 3) I literally can’t wait for New Horizons any longer

VHS

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At 22, I find myself missing life.  “But Karli”, you could say, “You still have so much to do and see; you’re still young. How could you miss life?”  To which I’d respond with the fact that you can still miss something you currently hold. It’s an odd concept surely, but one that you can find plaguing the minds of many. I miss taking breaths that aren’t weighted by fear. I miss completing tasks with a feeling of triumph, as opposed to one that cannot revel in completion, but instead grows heavy at the thought of the foreboding chores to come. I miss finding joy in the “now”, as I currently only experience the sensation looking forward, not in the mirror. I’m rarely content with where I stand, for how can one sunbathe in peace with the knowledge of the ever-changing tide that is to come? I find that monotony is unavoidable in my present stage of life. Yet, this is something we all come to expect isn’t it—living life as an old VHS tape that we loved as kids. We’d finish t