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Your life is your message to the world, make sure it's inspiring.

Live the life you love, love the life you live.


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"

This is why it hurts the way it hurts.

You have too many words in your head. There are too many ways to describe the way you feel. You will never have the luxury of a dull ache.

You must suffer through the intricacy of feeling too much.

"
-Iain S. Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

noonesaidlifewasfair:

While we waited for the doctor to return, an orderly, who witnessed the doctor speaking to Dan and me, approached us.

“You’re not allowed back here,” he said in a stern voice.

“The doctor told us to wait here,” Dan and I said in unison. “You asshole, you heard him tell us to wait…

noonesaidlifewasfair:

My parents split up. They constantly broke up and got back together again. Most of their arguments involved money (or the lack thereof) and alcohol (or rather Dad or Mom’s abuse of it). Mom moved Patty and me to a one bedroom, first-floor flat in an apartment complex in Blue Island, a suburb…

noonesaidlifewasfair:

I was five and a half. My family moved to the second floor of a bungalow-styled brick two-flat in Gage Park, a neighborhood on the south side of Chicago. Patty and I shared the bedroom adjacent to the front room.

It was very late, way past our normal bedtime. I tossed and turned from the second…

noonesaidlifewasfair:

Early one brisk Sunday morning, I convinced Dad to take me grocery shopping at the Way Low, a grocery store near our house. Unfortunately, he was still drunk from the night before. An evening of binge drinking and consuming dozens of White Castle hamburgers gave him incredibly bad gas.

noonesaidlifewasfair:

I was awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of my parent’s arguing. As quickly as the yelling escalated it subsided and I fell back asleep.

A short time later, my slumber was interrupted once again—this time by several loud knocks at our front door, and a man yelling “Open up, this…

"Anything can trigger it … I become numb, stand dead in my tracks, and am flooded by flashbacks, memories, and nightmares of the past. For a split second I relive them. My heart begins to race, and a tidal wave of pain comes crashing back. …I am alone. No one can help me. No one understands, and I am plagued by the senselessness of it all. Just for a split second, I am home again."
-
"No One Said Life Was Fair"
a poignant and humorous memoir about growing up in an alcoholic family by Mary Kate DeCraene. (via noonesaidlifewasfair)

noonesaidlifewasfair:

I’ve got a riddle for you. What do you get when you put two drunk Polacks and a Jew in an Irish bar? Answer: Trouble.

It was winter. Dad, Uncle Kenny, and their friend Roy, aka “The Nose,” got comfortably numb at one of their favorite watering holes, an Irish pub in Lyons, Illinois a…