#something honest

[rashmirathi]

The Monster

There is no monster

Neither under my bed

Nor inside my head

Because the Monster is me

I have long accepted

The more you resist it

The more it play the tricks

To make you feel worthless

To feel the pain limitless

Just so you know

You know what's the real deal

the pain you feel is real

Cause you are only alive if you can feel

Your worth is not defined others

You create your own image.

It's ok if you are the Monster today

Be the knight tomorrow.

Don't let today suffering destroy someone else's tomorrow.

Get high on this pain to face the better days

Because I know these monsters are not here to stay.

[youandthemountains]

it's so hard to find anything of any actual quality, saying anything authentic or meaningful on the internet, it's all buried under referential garbage

[allthebooksallthecoffee]

Day 9 : human is what we are

what inspires me to write

There is always a bit of a routine. I have noticed and read about that with other writers. You get the cup of coffee, you grab your pen, you grab your book. You go to the place where the sun shines in and you can see the lake and hear the trees and feel the wind. 

I always imagined myself having a place to write like that, a little cabin in the woods for when I need to go and take a deep breath. Because sometimes this city it makes me feel like I can’t breathe. 

Lately, the way I write is I get the cup of coffee, I go to the sun room. I get all my different notebooks for all my different thoughts and I begin. 

Sometimes though, I feel more like writing on my laptop. Which is what I’m doing now and in those moments I go to my room. I put water in the essential oil holder and I light a candle. I put my pajamas on, I get my cup of magnesium. I wash and moisturize my skin. I dim the lights. I lay back on my pillows. I let go of the hard feelings and I write. 

The type of writing that has always inspired me is mostly Anais Nin. I also really loved Virignia Wolfe and her stream of consciousness thought style. I loved Faulkner for awhile too. At one point I was obsessed with Nora Ephron. 

One of the reasons I am doing this challenge is because I love Broynie’s style of writing. It’s like I can feel the words coming out of my brain and my mouth and I wish they had. Sometimes I feel like she articulates something in me that I never could. 

When I read her words I feel understood and it makes me want to write even more. 

How do you make your practice into a safe space to remain, even when a larger part of you wants to wonder away?

I don’t know but it is something I have been working on every single day. 

So what inspires me to write? 

-joy -hope -love -dogs -books -being curious  -early mornings -really good cups of coffee -the satisfaction of getting something to work  -when I feel something really deeply. but this is true of good things and bad things. sometimes I more inspired to write when things are going very badly.  -i used to only write when I was sad

Writing is good for pin pointing something in yourself that you are experiencing and feeling and aren’t quite sure what to do about it. I wonder if I didn’t struggle as much with depression or anxiety growing up because I spent so much time writing. and writing and writing. It was at least coming out of my brain. 

Sometimes when I tell people what I have been through they seem impressed that I am not more messed up but it has never seemed like all that much to me. 

When things come up I always just handle them. Problem --> Solution. 

[ampedsound]

Kept At Bay Premiers "Gilded" Music Video

Kept At Bay is a pop-punk band from Richmond, Va. Kept At Bay strives to make relatable music with a realistic, positive message. Their recent Ep “Something Honest“ is available on all major music sites and available NOW. You can now watch their music video for the second track off of “Something Honest”, “Gilded”. Facebook…

Kept At Bay Premiers “Gilded” Music Video was originally published on Amped Sound

[chubbybritneyspears]

I just got out of the hospital. I tried to kill myself. It has been a really upsetting night. The police officer was asking me if I ever tried church. I felt provoked because what does God have to do with mental illness!?! I spent the last 5 hours in the emergency room. I was labeled a involuntary patient after I told him I didn’t believe in god, and scoffed at his ridiculous “helping words”. My relationship is officially over. Those of you with bpd understand that this is the most devastating thing in the world. I feel like I have nothing to live for.

[bapoet]

My father is Appalachia noun see also: native to poverty see also: frostbitten boychild see also: winterrooted red nose. The constant dripdripdip of cold staining

his shirtsleeves. Drowning in the thickspit mucus of History Runs Thicker Than Family but not nearly as fast or far. My father, an orphan twice over, bred a legacy of bastards bearing his features and tendencies.

He called me from her deathbed three months before she died saying Goinggoinggone. I only saw him cry once: sitting at the kitchen table I said Going. Going. Gone. 

And I went. 

[marilyntendencies-blog]

So I think I wrote some lyrics. They suck but comments are loved :D

I have a habit

I have an addiction

But it doesn’t break me or make me

This person who trudges through the pain

And through smoke and ash

I’m this person bleeding on the inside

Tearing at my skin

Breaking through

Crashing, falling, making

Making art out of pain

And you look at me

And see this doll with a pretty smile and pink lips

Nothing hurts, nothing breaks me

But I’m bleeding, bleeding

Trying to breathe through it all

And nobody but me sees this fall

And why would you

See the real me

I don’t let you see it

And you never ask or question it

You love the doll I am

Living this lie, keeping the shadows of my past from clouding

From ruining a perfect smile

You don’t see it but I’m bleeding, I’m bleeding

On the carpet in the living room

Watching as it drips down the walls

But I’m still smiling, smiling

And you look at me

And see this doll with a pretty smile and pink lips

Nothing hurts, nothing breaks me

But I’m bleeding, bleeding

Trying to breathe through it all

And nobody but me sees this fall

 I’m falling and crashing

 Watching the world blur into swimming colors

 Watching the smirk across your face

Throw me on the floor

I don’t mean anything anymore

While I bleed out

I’m tryin to breathe and gasp

And all I can see the doll I’ve been for you

                And you look at me

And see this doll with a pretty smile and pink lips

Nothing hurts, nothing breaks me

But I’m bleeding, bleeding

Trying to breathe through it all

And nobody but me sees this fall

                  Nobody, Nobody, nobody,

Nobody but me sees this fall.