I am not yet Tom Hiddleston’s wife.
He thinks I suffer from depression. But I’m just quiet. Solitude and depression are like swimming and drowning. In school many years ago, I learned that flowers sometimes unfold inside themselves.
— Simon Van Booy (via nickdrake)
tumblrbot asked: ROBOTS OR DINOSAURS?
Dinosaurs are scary but have you seen iRobot? You tried to kill Will Smith; not cool.
"Dear Mr. Vernon… We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong, But we think you’re crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are, what do you care? You see us as you want to see us… in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. Correct? That’s the way we saw each other at seven o’clock this morning. We were brainwashed."
- The Breakfast Club.
I’m afraid that I might die with everything still inside me.
Depression is a thing that eats at you and sometimes it doesn’t give you time to recover from your wounds. You have no idea what it’s like to be depressed. To go through intense periods of anxiety and suffer from episodes of panic attacks. To go to bed and never want to wake up again. To pretend that everything is ok. Depression is supremely sad, however, the universe has given me Netflix and books which makes everything much more bearable. In this moment I am content even though I am saddened by Robin Williams leaving us. What he’s left behind puts a smile on my face and I hope the universe praises him for that.
As many times as I’ve walked my dog in the evenings, I never noticed the sunset until today. It caught my eyes unexpectedly; it looked like a painting. It looked like a place where good things happened. While taking in it’s beauty I felt a pinge of sadness. I realized that in my 20 plus years of life I haven’t seen many sunsets or sunrises. How could I have missed such a wondrous free thing?
A picture says a thousand words. Write them.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about this picture.
Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!
It was coming. The howling winds of the past 36 hours have been leading up to this. I could smell the rain before the sunrise. I’ve had this feeling before; anticipation. Everything smelled stronger, from the anxiety beating off my chest to the fear rolling off the deers fur. Every movement had an echo; the leaves being crushed by the feet of young animals who were unaware of the danger to come, weak branches being broken by the heavy winds…my rapid heartbeat. The sky grew darker with every passing cloud. The glow of the full moon pierced through the fog. The bones in my body began to move, my jaw cracked; the shift. Then I heard it, the echoing howls; the wolves. It’s here.
At 17, I thought I would have it all figured out by 21. At 21, I was as lost as a blind and deaf wolf whose lost it’s sense of smell. At 25, I’m still lost but I’m finally seeing a little better and hearing a little better. Used to wear sheep’s clothing but I’m shedding that.