and i don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause i don’t think that they’d understand.
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@rougerevelry
and i don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause i don’t think that they’d understand.
Gillian Flynn ― Gone Girl
Louis Veray, (1885), detail of La Moissoneuse endormie Ph. Gerard Hermand
Couldn’t help but notice that captain got under your skin.
small shifts in stimuli are surprisingly simple to do and can do wonders for your mental state
like some of these things are more manageable than other depending on how bad your state is but:
- changing the sheets on the bed to different ones
- taking a shower in the dark
- sleeping with your head on the opposite end of the bed
- going to sleep early and waking up early enough to watch the sunrise
- laying on the floor near a window to get a different view of the sky
- finger painting yourself
- wearing a piece of clothing that is brighter than what you normally wear
- sitting barefoot with your toes in the dirt (especially if you haven’t been outside in a while)
- drinking or eating lots of sour things then having a cup of water so the water tastes sweet
- walking out in the rain without bothering to keep yourself dry (not for too long though - you don’t want to make yourself sick)
- opening up a window and letting fresh air in
George Seferis, tr. by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard, from The Collected Poems 1924-1955; “Pantoum”
the fact that I have to be in the “right headspace” to do even the simplest tasks. absolutely humiliating
Secret poison cabinets in the shape of books, historicism in the style of the 17th century (1 2 3 4 5 6).
oh hey sorry I’ve been distant lately…. I’ve been really busy having a brain that is bad
The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002) Dir. Peter Jackson
He asked me when I fell in love with him and I knew it sounded dramatic to say the moment I saw him, so I told him this story of my grandma who had Alzheimer's- she forgot her name and the words for fruit and food, she forgot her address and how to use the washroom, all her life lost to the disease. The only thing she remembered was her son's name and when that began to fade, the one thing she always remembered was that she loved him, even in illness, even in insanity. She saw this 6 foot 2 man with a scrubby beard and she didn't know him but she said she trusted him, she asked him to hold her hand when she died. When does memory end and love begin? All I know is- she loved him before she remembered him.
-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire
soft ballet | by misha
i have mastered the art of stressing out and not caring whatsoever simultaneously