d e v o n
NASA
No title available
dirt enthusiast
almost home
Peter Solarz
JVL
DEAR READER
art blog(derogatory)
hello vonnie
Love Begins
AnasAbdin
Sweet Seals For You, Always
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
RMH
sheepfilms
No title available
Three Goblin Art
Jules of Nature
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Spain
seen from Australia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
@rants-n-chants
God sometimes I feel like I'm trapped in a box. Do not emote too much. Do not emote that little. Oh look someone is wondering why i sound so happy and accuse me of being insincere (actually you've just never seen me this happy before)
There is something hiding nearby. I see it's small beadly eye. What does it want? Am I a mouthful it's trying to hunt. Or am I the hunter and it my prey. what creature hides? I hear you say?
Perhaps you'll find out, if you dare to play.
A mouse is hiding in my walls, it scurries, it gnaws, slipping under doors.
Its not a mouse but the madness it caused.Its scratching. Its constant watching.
Oh dear, I've done it again. There are no mice here only pills I forgot to take.
For f#ck sake.
what am I doing... what am I doing?? 🎶🎶
Hopfully something joyful... I'd hate for it to be full of sorrow 🎶🎶
Certain words can change your brain forever and ever so you do have to be very careful about it.
Excerpt from my wip 'apparition'
trigger warning : mentions of suicide If you are experiencing mental health issues of any kind please know that there are people in this world that care and will listen. 🌸~ List of suicide helplines
The fall. The panic. The body. Know one knew why the man had jumped. A hush had settled among the watchers.
"Surely he could have reached out to someone", whispered a woman in her late thirties. Her dark hair was neatly braided, her navy suit well fitted and freshly pressed.
"Claire!" her friend quietly admonished, Claire received a few disapproving glances, she looked down, shuffling her shiny black Oxford shoes against the rough pavement.
Know one spoke up in disagreement, if anything most where thinking the same thing. There was after all, a myriad of support systems, all put in place to prevent this kind of thing from happening. So why did he do it. Where did this so called support fail in catching him. Parhaps it's the notion of 'support system' in today's society,individuals shuffled down a waiting list and carted off into sections and labeled as a zero or a one.
This man may have been labeled as such, perhaps he forgot he was a person, because he wasn't treated like one. Or the opposite could be just as true. Know one truly knows.
The gathered crowd watched as he was scraped off the pavement. well most of him anyway. Left behind was a black, tattered and worn out Oxford shoe. It had definitely seen better days.
There is hope, there is meaning I promise you. 🌸~ List of suicide helplines
Excerpt from Sundial (wip)
"Well. when your dead feelings disappear all together, theres nothing left. No fear. No pain," Ammielia weaved her hands through the prickly grass they lay upon. A daisy was nestled in her dark locks, petals white and tinted pink at the tips.
Colin lazily twirled green stems between his fingers, his stilted movements reminded Ammielia of a clumsy child. Still innocent to most things.
He reached for a new stem, "I can't help but disagree with that."
Sundial (wip) Excerpt
He is adrift and slowing sinking in the cold blue apathy that he's been pushed towards by others. He can't bear this life. This human shell.
"Perhaps if I dug far enough, there'd be a place for me to rest awhile", his gaze frozen on the grave in front of them. The person buried below now gone, the roots of the tree planted amoungst the corps, cradling them in this life and the next. Colin wished for such an embrace. He ached for it.
Not me getting tearful about having go an interact with the checkout people.
God sometimes I feel like I'm trapped in a box. Do not emote too much. Do not emote that little. Oh look someone is wondering why i sound so happy and accuse me of being insincere (actually you've just never seen me this happy before)
Hope.
It lives in small buds only just blooming.
I promise you there is hope. It lives in you. I swear it's true, it's silent most days but give it a few rays and I swear it will blossom into vibrant colour and happiness.
Lift your weary head to the sky blue and sun red and bask in the heat. I know it feels like a such a feat. I've been there and I know. I'm still there and so I go, to those simple fields, I sit. I watch.
I feel, that hope is never gone only hiding in the throng, of colder times that have had their season for the last time.
It's going to be fine.
Have a flower 🌼 to brighten your day and if flowers aren't your thing I hope you except this 🧶 ball of string. I find it to be while annoying entertaining. Something to do when it's raining.
The amount of self analysing, worrying, Secound guessing I do in social interactions. And then I think I've understood the vibe and try to maybe have a connection, but to end up reading it wrong sends me into a bag of rattled nerves and guilt and I wished never even left my little room. I don't want to missterpret anyone or be misinterpreted myself. God I need to work on my communication skills. I think I've been alone for too long.
A change is coming. It travels with the wind over seas of old memories.
instagram | notesfromroosterchapel
Excerpt from my wip 'Sundial'
The gathering was larger than he expected.
Roy's mother had been a kind woman, always with a story to share and fish to sell. But never would he had guessed that she was loved by so many.
The trawlermen and woman left offerings of ship rope and netting, they bowed their heads and shook his hand, "your mother always helped out when one of us was ill."
He never knew she was taking extra work and for no coin or payment as well, she would come home tired most days, salty sea air clinging to her clothes and a fish rapped in newspaper for dinner in hand.
The head faith leader approached the grave, her eyes solemn and hands reaching for his "I think your mother would want you to have this."
Passed from her hand to Roy's was a book. He remembers her reading to him most nights growing up, storys from the old time, from before, all past down from sorry souls with only their words left. Feeling the worn cover and faded letter indents, he knew this was hers.
It was secondhand and tattered. It wasn't quite a text from any of the old religions, no talk of a man leading people to salvation or phophets reciting words sent from above. It was the tale of life. The force of trees uprooting, wind singing to the sea and a tiny seed of exsistants that we all seem to be, an assortment of history's most don't follow. but she did.
He would try to do the same, he'd rather believe her story's than believe her gone. She lived on in his mind now. She lived on in the trees, she was a voice singing with the wind, she traveled calmer seas and whispered flowers in bloom. She was not gone, merely transformed. She was anew.
Previous Excerpt from 'Sundial'
