I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good ol’ days before you’ve actually left them.
The Office (via sideeffectoflife)
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I want so much that is not here and do not know where to go.
Charles Bukowski (via wring-out-the-rain)
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Some days, I listen to that clock ticking in the hallway. Then I think of all the ticks, all the minutes, all the hours and days and weeks and months and years waiting for me. All of it without you. And I can’t breathe then, like someone’s stepping on my heart. I get so weak. So weak I just want to collapse somewhere.
Khaled Hosseini (via 24ribs)
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Certain songs are cursed. They hang out uninvited in your head. It’s nothing to do with the conscious, thinking you. There’s who you want/try to be and then there’s who you really are, and these are the songs that make the wedge that splits the two and shows you the difference. They’ll remind you, with pin sharp accuracy, of the smell of ex lovers, the laughter of old friends, of lost atmospheres and environments and scenery and pointless detail, and everytime you hear them by chance (and it’s always by chance) it’s akin to a needle, scratching at a part of your soul that scientists have yet to document. There’s nothing you can do but relax; get old and build a tolerance, and in a few years time, when you’re sitting in a bar or a club or around a friends kitchen, and some playlist exposes those hideously overfamiliar opening daggers, you’ll be able to quell those emotions within the briefest of facial tics and no one around you need ever know that, out of all the Postal Service and Notwist and Owls you listened to that summer, double Bright Eyes albums, Hole b-side compilations, repeated plays of Goodbye Sky Harbor, you had your worst ever heartbreak to fucking ‘Run’ by fucking Snow Patrol.
Certain Songs - Johnny Foreigner (via loscampvaqueros)
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I wish I was the someone who got phone calls
And postcards saying
Wish you were here
I wish you were here Andrea Gibson (via hurricanesandshineyshines) _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
And postcards saying
Wish you were here
I wish you were here Andrea Gibson (via hurricanesandshineyshines) _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
You know when you lean back in a chair and you go so far that you almost fall over, but at the last instant you catch yourself? That’s how I feel all the time.
Steven Wright (via riseofthecommonwoodpile)
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I miss you like a dart hits the iris of a bullseye,
or a train ticket screams 4:30 at 4:47, I
wanted to tell you that it’s my birthday on Thursday
and I would have wanted you to
give me the gift of your guts on the floor, one last time,
to see if you still had it in you.
I hope our ghosts aren’t eating you alive.
If I’m to speak for myself, I’ll tell you that
the universe is twice as big as we think it is
and you’re the only one that made that idea
less devastating. Small, Lucas Regazzi (via 1000scientists) _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
or a train ticket screams 4:30 at 4:47, I
wanted to tell you that it’s my birthday on Thursday
and I would have wanted you to
give me the gift of your guts on the floor, one last time,
to see if you still had it in you.
I hope our ghosts aren’t eating you alive.
If I’m to speak for myself, I’ll tell you that
the universe is twice as big as we think it is
and you’re the only one that made that idea
less devastating. Small, Lucas Regazzi (via 1000scientists) _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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.
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.
Depression is not a synonym for being sad or having a bad day/bad week.
(via morningsuns)
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Sometimes I feel so—I don’t know—lonely. The kind of helpless feeling when everything you’re used to has been ripped away. Like there’s no more gravity, and I’m left to drift in outer space. With no idea where I’m headed.”
“Like a little lost Sputnik?”
“I guess so. Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart (via liquidnight) _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Like a little lost Sputnik?”
“I guess so. Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart (via liquidnight) _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The best feeling in the world is knowing your presence and absence both mean something to someone.
(via mystandards)
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