nocciolatte @kalipsosstuff - Tumblr Blog

I don’t have chronic pain but this artwork is so nice to look at *^*

Just because we’re not writhing on the floor doesn’t mean we’re not hurting. We’ve just gotten really good at hiding it and functioning with it, otherwise we’d literally starve in our beds.

lyinginbedmon

This also works pretty well for numerous mental disabilities, or just generally for any “invisible” disabilities.

goodreadss

Two souls are sometimes created together and in love before they’re even born.

(via goodreadss)

goodreadss

“…and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?”

(via goodreadss)

goodreadss

Our lives are defined by opportunities, even the ones we miss.

(via goodreadss)

Sei un raggio di sole, certo che ce la fai. Abbiamo così tanta forza in noi e non lo sappiamo neanche.

minuty

thepursuitaesthetic-deactivated

Feeling blue.

In those days everything feels gray, everything feels just the same. There are no good days, there is just this dark grey all over our heads. Whenever there's sunshine outside, there's still grey inside and when there's no sunshine either, well, then it just blend all together in one unic color. Then there are days when blue is coming out of the grey and someone might thinks it is a good event, but there's nothing more wrong than that. No. Blue is the color that comes out like a lighting strike out of the whole big grey mass of clouds in the sky and it is no good. It's like this sordid sound that comes with the thunder, unexpected, unwanted and so scary that you breath starts to shake as so as your body. Trembling heart and racing thoughts, they speed like the light. You don't even have time to stop that, the blue just appears. Out of the news, out of social medias, out of a phone call and out of yourself. I'm feeling blue right now, because of me. Because I feel so disgusted and disappointed by myself that I might as well take a step back in my progression here. Maybe I already did. Pretty sure I already stepped back. Back in the hole of emptiness and loneliness, back to my teary eyes and tired heart. Back to the me I've known for the past 9 months. Ironic, uh? 9 months. But instead of growing in a womb I'm falling apart. Or, in a sense, I am growing up, but it doesn't feel like it. It's not happy times like it used to be growing up, it's not all fun and games, it's not big sincere smiles and no thoughts. It's all the way around: it's tiredness, it's sadness, madness at times. It's a heavy feeling on your body that keeps crushing on the ground little by little, now the feet, now the legs, now the stomach... Depression has never hit like that before.

klassizismus

Amor Vincit Omnia (1602) by Caravaggio (Italian, 1571-1610)

neckkiss

St. Elmo’s Fire (1985)

heavenhillgirl

danger

goodreadss

Water Lilies (1919) by Claude Monet

The Japanese Bridge - Claude Monet

Vedila così: non sapresti di star passando dall'essere una ragazza ad un'adulta se non facesse così male.

Well if that's love, then I don't know what is, if that's true, then I'm a fraud. If it's real then I must seem like such a fool, to have saved my love for one.