atlas; paralyzed

the earth presses down on your shoulders and you can't move --- i don't intend for this to be anything more than to get my thoughts out of my head and vent. reblog if you want, talk to me if you want, just don't be rude

[capacity]

No offense but I can’t believe this is life lol

[atlasparalyzed]

how the fuck am i gonna talk about this year to my parents

[morbid-eleganza-deactivated2021]

[sourwolfsam]

Gryffindors are bright mornings, leaves dripping in gold. They’re the trailblazers, unafraid of the road ahead. They’re laughing so loud your stomach hurts, the knowledge that your friends are right behind you wherever you go. They’re ice skating with someone you love, clinging on to them for dear life. They’re make-believe games with quests and dragons and swords pointing at the sky. They’re rosy cheeks, winter winds and freezing hands. They’re the adrenaline when a plane takes off, the drop at the top of a rollercoaster. They’re delighted screams and freedom, the wind through your hair. They’re panting, pillow fights, feathers bursting into the air. They’re finger painting and festivals and burning sunsets. They’re the burn in your lung after chasing something you’ll never be able to catch. 

Hufflepuffs are honey and flowers and the soft autumn sun. They’re knitted jumpers and scarves and soft tan boots. They’re fresh air and nature, the sound of birds singing. They’re rolling down a hill in the spring, grass stains on your knees, daisy chains in your hair. They’re waving at someone across a crowded room, bright smiles and laughter. They’re coming home after a long day and seeing your family. They’re playing fetch with your dog, your cat weaving between your feet. They’re fluffy socks and song birds and kraft notebooks with hand drawn patterns. They’re throw cushions on a bed, a tiny cottage surrounded by wilderness. They’re the ground beneath your feet, the air that you breathe. They’re the light you chase when you thought you’d never see the morning. 

Ravenclaws are leather bound books and overstocked libraries. They’re waking up at two am to google that thing that’s bugging you. They’re journals with half the words crossed out, scribbles and ink stains and missing pages. They’re stretching when you’ve been hunched over all day, rolling off the edge of a bed, burrowing in blankets. They’re torch light and held breaths and reverent whispers. They’re the entire night sky and everything beyond it; the embodiment of the universe. They’re desperate searches and hidden castles and ghost stories by firelight. They’re the mystery of a dark corridor, the force of a whirlwind. They’re the excitement of discovery, the rustle of crunched up paper. They’re the last whisper before you fall asleep. 

Slytherins are foggy hillsides and picturesque landscapes. They’re hand written love notes and subtle glances across a classroom. They’re black boots, long coats, buttons done up to the top. They’re tipping your head back to breathe the air, kicking up stones on a deserted path. They’re mirrored lakes, everything below the surface. They’re the confidence to get something right, the feel of magic in your fingertips. They’re holding your breath underwater, pretending to be a mermaid when you swim. They’re finding that one song that makes you want to create a storm. They’re the chill in the breeze, the force in the tide. They’re enchanted forests and lingering glances and long drives. They’re the lightning and the thunder and everything in between. 

[holysuggestions]

please just let me sleep

[holysuggestions]

i can’t remember the last time i felt real

[alioquii]

a few divine and prophetic feelings:

soaking up sunlight as though it were honey and liquid gold.  it feels as though it softens the edges of your form, the light, the warmth, until the border between you and the air and the dust and the water are indistinguishable

the quiet moments in the dark, alone.  the walls enclosing you dissolve into the emptiness of your room, and sometimes, in that silence, something holy fills that space.  personally, i’m not sure what

in the back of a car, all passengers wordless, the radio having dissipated into something unintelligible to your ears, but if you listen closely enough, you think there might be the whispers of angels

[knightofleo]

Stray Child sky, clouds

[c-bedford]

It is okay, he has forgotten me anyway.

Speed paint commission of Tuteur for Vin.

One and Lonely | Patreon

[earthstory]

Sunrise

[seraphbones]

modern fallen angels shivering in their beds at night with an ache in their bones and an itch under skin that has never felt like theirs, a feeling that they are something biggerbetterbrighter and blinding themselves with incessant memories that neverstop and missing home, missing their wings and their divinity

angels texting each other at 3 am “i miss the sky” and “do you remember what it was like to hold the world in our jaws because that feeling feels further and further away every second”

angels in classrooms, angels taking the bus, angels at grocery markets, angels in art studios on friday nights, angels at coffee shops, angels in bookstores, angels working minimum wage; people shiver when they pass by, or they stare too long from across the room and their eyes sting a little because there’s still power there, mortals can still feel it, even if they could never put a name to it.

fallen angels with a righteous sense of justice, still too good to know evil, not sure what’s right or wrong anymore because this world is not dichotomous; there is no easy choice. modern angels with guilt and regrets, what that must mean on a divine level. angels with glowing palms and golden eyes, the remnants of a god too big for any room. 

angels who feel nostalgia for planes they can’t even comprehend anymore, angels earth-bound and wingless and clinging to each other in raw daylight when everything feels like too much and not enough. angels with anxiety, angels with sweaty, shaking hands, angels with ptsd, angels at dusk imagining god in the city lights and trying to understand what purpose means. maybe not theirs, but at least its something tangible. 

[atlasparalyzed]

friend: are you alright?

me: *finger guns* no!!!

[atlasparalyzed]

i want to fucking die

[liefly]

me: *can’t handle the stress and demands of school* also me: *can’t function properly without the structure school gives my life*

[atlasparalyzed]

i want to get cross faded and never wake up

[petalsoftie-blog]

side effects of being numb due to mental illness:

not crying for weeks and weeks on end til one day breaking down over something not actually worth getting upset for

not being able to tell if your feelings for people are platonic or romantic or if you’re just lonely 

instead of caring too much not caring at all about anything 

not being able to process anything going on in your life and when you try your brain stalling out

losing your train of thought every five seconds so when you try to have a conversation having to pause and remember what you were trying to say 

word vomiting 

mind ‘STATIC’

[bleed-in-ink-deactivated2017052]

Constantly torn between “if I show symptoms I’m real and valid” and “I can’t show any symptoms because then I’ll be a bother so I have to internalize everything.”