Life isn't about the destination it's about the journey, so stop worrying about tomorrow and make something of today.

† home message †

I am falling into
Patterns inside my own head again.
I tried to scream on the way to the bottom
But I lost the sound
To a mouthful of water.

Turn the tide off,
My legs can’t swim as fast as my thoughts can.
Head spinning, dirty water down the drain,
Wash me away, wash me away,
Memories are cascading into my neck
It’s so hard
My bones might break.

Let it all just slow down,
Let this be a slow drown.

The current hits right in the spine,

The bottom of the sea is a place where I…
When everything gets bad.
This is the best that I can do to keep
The horizon from bleeding into the ocean
I am losing grip on all notions of “alright”
I am whispering lies to my friends again at night
(“I’m fine, I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”)

I’m lying as I’m lying in this bed:
Worry about me.

Sunday night drinking myself almost to death
With cheap whiskey and cheaper beer
In the cheapest attempt to forget that I am here.

In my head I hear someone say
“Slow down”
Betting that this time I’ll slow drown.

The bass hits right in the spine,

The last hour of the night is where I…
Find myself sitting in the middle of the street,
The cold wind kissing me like I did you for the last time,
My headphones are pressed against my ears
I want my eardrums to bleed out all my fears;
My wrists itch for the quick flick of metal
So I can settle the score with all these songs
Begging to come out of my blood.

Visit me,
You always visit me
On the off chance that I sleep
And you sing to me in my dreams,
The words I’ve lost eight years in the making.
I am faking my stability
My ability to sit still has been killed by
An illness so deep
Even the Atlantic pouts in jealousy.


I… am
Inside my own head again:

I never wanted to visit this space in the first place.

I Tried To Scream On The Way To The Bottom But I Lost The Sound To A Mouthful Of Water (Falling)” - Nishat Ahmed

I can’t sleep.
(via sickwithsyllables)

1 day ago · reblog · 140 notes


English due on Wednesday, so is AP US History, I’m pretty sure the Science test is tomorrow, or was that Calc? No fuck the Calc test is fifth and the science test is fifth the next day.

the snow is falling heavier tonight.
it clumps together like sea foam
and I am caught up in the pull of its tide.

my breath cannot be catched.
it is not a baseball
and your sympathy is no mitt.

it’s snowing anyway,
and to play baseball in this weather?
you’d have to be crazy.

you’re crazy.
maybe I’m crazy, but I think I’m okay with that?
okay I’m not okay with that.

the snow heaps keep building.
they cover my roads
and push against my chest.

god does it hurt.
but not the pain kind of hurt.
just the frostbite kind.

Yesterday, the snow fell outside my classroom window
and a misguided romantic told me it was so beautiful
yes, beautiful

Beautiful like a Cameron Diaz romcom, beautiful.
Beautiful like an “I’ll fix you”, beautiful.
Beautiful until you’re the one standing outside in the fucking cold, beautiful.

You can’t fix me, Beautiful.
Every snowflake is different
and I can’t see shit in this blizzard

but there are children playing eskimo across the street.
i think i can feel my heartbeat
slipping on iced over concrete.
need the heat
putting sunshine in the backseat.

i think i’ll keep a few sun rays in my pocket.
put them next to where i keep my bubbly persona.
take them out whenever you wanna play baseball.

honey, smile.
honey, cheer up.
at least you’re not starving in africa-
you are so privileged.
it’s not that cold out.

no, m’am, it’s fucking freezing.
look at me and tell me my cheeks aren’t red.
stab me with an icicle,

I won’t feel it.
and I don’t need your validation
to say whether or not I’ve been stabbed.

I just need the snow plow to come.
and the heaviness on my chest to melt.
and the tide to

When My Faults Fall Like Snowflakes: a spoken word poem about anxiety and depression (by S.H.D.)

1 day ago · reblog · 30 notes


blue is the warmest color is honestly the cutest and most natural, realistic love movie i have ever seen


the reason why so many people prefer older men isnt because we have some sort of kink but because we know young teenage boys are a complete fucking disaster that can only be salvaged by the sands of time

6 days ago · reblog · 164,542 notes

"Mad was the last kid I saw and he was asleep. He was 3 months old and they put him in my arms and he stayed asleep and they put him in the bath and he stayed asleep and I thought he was narcoleptic or something. Then he opened his eyes and just stared at me for the longest time and I just stared at him and I started crying and he smiled. And it wasn’t that he smiled that he liked me, it was just that I hadn’t held children in my life and I was always considered so dark and I always had so many things that made me feel like maybe I shouldn’t be somebody’s mom because certainly the world has an opinion of me and I’m not so sure about myself and am I gonna be the best mom? So the fact that this little kid seemed at ease gave me the courage to feel like I could make him happy. And so we became a family right then." — Angelina Jolie

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When women used to be depressed or were not “taking care of their men” properly their husbands could send them to the psych ward for attitude adjustments. This was part of conditioning them to always wear a smile. They believed that if a woman saw herself smiling that it would become natural practice and that she would be “cured”. This often went along with shock therapies. 
I found this post on Facebook with comments made by people with loved ones who wore these for the reasons mentioned above. After finding this story, I did a Google search and found out about a school in Budapest that used these masks for treatment of depression after World War 2. So yes, these stories are true.

Sleep eating Kangaroo.