May 29 2012
∞
I’ve been down there before.
I stood up for you
And you chose to say thank you
By pushing me down.
May 23 2012
∞
A rogue couplet.
My hand devoid of yours was enough to see
That you had stolen tiny parts of me.
+
∞
Since you stopped talking to me.
The world is silent.
Everything is on mute.
it is deafening.
+
∞
Not so tragic as Medusa.
Your legs are like a street with too many roads crossing through, there are too many places to turn and in the end you go nowhere, so blinded by the possibility, you spend too much time dreaming and not enough time making dreams come true. Your eyes are an impossible star map, because right now you really are reaching too high, asking for too much, babe, those are stars, you’re going to get burnt. Your lips are not the road less travelled, they are the manmade path through the woods, beautiful but I know I’m not the first nor the last to see it shimmer in the sunlight. Your tears are not like rain. They are not like showers from heaven. They are not glistening jewels. Your tears are hot and they are ugly, they twist and rip at my insides, seeking my backbone and successfully liquifying it.
You are not searching for “the one”, you are a gorgon decorating her garden.
May 20 2012
∞
“
Depression is humiliating. It turns intelligent, kind people into zombies who can’t wash a dish or change their socks. It affects the ability to think clearly, to feel anything, to ascribe value to your children, your lifelong passions, your relative good fortune. It scoops out your normal healthy ability to cope with bad days and bad news, and replaces it with an unrecognizable sludge that finds no pleasure, no delight, no point in anything outside of bed. You alienate your friends because you can’t comport yourself socially, you risk your job because you can’t concentrate, you live in moderate squalor because you have no energy to stand up, let alone take out the garbage. You become pathetic and you know it. And you have no capacity to stop the downward plunge. You have no perspective, no emotional reserves, no faith that it will get better. So you feel guilty and ashamed of your inability to deal with life like a regular human, which exacerbates the depression and the isolation. If you’ve never been depressed, thank your lucky stars and back off the folks who take a pill so they can make eye contact with the grocery store cashier. No one on earth would choose the nightmare of depression over an averagely turbulent normal life.
It’s not an incapacity to cope with day to day living in the modern world. It’s an incapacity to function. At all. If you and your loved ones have been spared, every blessing to you. If depression has taken root in you or your loved ones, every blessing to you, too. No one chooses it. No one deserves it. It runs in families, it ruins families. You cannot imagine what it takes to feign normalcy, to show up to work, to make a dentist appointment, to pay bills, to walk your dog, to return library books on time, to keep enough toilet paper on hand, when you are exerting most of your capacity on trying not to kill yourself. Depression is real. Just because you’ve never had it doesn’t make it imaginary. Compassion is also real. And a depressed person may cling desperately to it until they are out of the woods and they may remember your compassion for the rest of their lives as a force greater than their depression. Have a heart. Judge not lest ye be judged.
— (via yoturnitup)
(via ifyoujusttakemebythehand)
May 16 2012
∞
Anonymous asked: Have you done tumblrdatinggame(.)com yet?
No? I don’t plan too either, I’m guessing this is a virus.
May 14 2012
∞
Big bang in black and white.
And oh your tears are beautiful,
Shooting stars in golden sky
But all the trees are sliced to stumps.
Pictures crafted in salt
Are drawn in the grass.
Dried riverbeds
Crisscross the earth,
They are raw and angry red
But nothing flows there anymore.
This was once your world,
What did you let it do to you?
I can’t face the mirror anymore,
For fear of seeing the same.
I cover my shame in long sleeves and jeans,
Universes covered by high collars
Disguised and buried beneath bracelets,
Always underneath.
Don’t press too hard,
Don’t dig too deep.
There is a world underneath the surface
That you don’t want to see.
May 11 2012
∞
As seen on Facebook. (posted by Homestead Survival)
A sweet lesson on patience.
A NYC Taxi driver wrote:
I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.
‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’
‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive
through downtown?’
‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..
‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice..’The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired.Let’s go now’.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.
‘Nothing,’ I said
‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.
‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.
‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life..
I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
(via eleanor89)
May 09 2012
∞
“You think graffiti is ugly? Gigantic posters of ridiculous photo shopped guys in their underwear, advertisements for companies that exploit children in the third world, signs prohibiting your movement and telling you what to do, that’s what’s ugly to me. Advertisers and governments want to control you, graffiti artists just want to let you know they exist.”
(Source: m-owgli, via eshusplayground)
