PursuingMyPeace
Wanna know the fucking truth? Nobody is fucking happy. Nobody has skin made from oil paint and sunlight. Nobody fucking understands this world. Fuck, nobody probably understands math as much as they claim. You’re here one day and the next you’re not. God? Religion? I’ve learned a lot more about the world by eating acid and swallowing pills. Tell me what your church has done for you? Tell me if you have holes in your mouth from speaking lies? Wanna know the fucking truth? Pity is just another word for pathetic. Drink beer and watch the sunrise from every rooftop. Take photographs naked. Take photographs kissing. Take photographs having sex. Stop making everything about sexuality. Wanna know the fucking truth? Nobody really gives a damn if you lost your virginity at fourteen or if you were the president in high school. Wanna know the fucking truth? There is no such thing as the right person. People leave. They change like ocean currents, they leave you with bruises in your calves. And you wanna know the fucking truth? You get better. You learn to love. You find God in between the cracks of a wall when you’re puking your limbs out. You wanna know the fucking truth? Go find it.
something someone should have told me when i was eighteen   (via thetroothandnothingbutthetruth)
psych2go:

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Psych2go features various psychological findings and myths. In the future, psych2go attempts to include sources to posts for the purpose of generating discussions and commentaries. This will give readers a chance to critically examine psychology.
Fact submitted by: mental-health-advice
Post made by: haibeana

psych2go:

For more posts like these, go visit psych2go

Psych2go features various psychological findings and myths. In the future, psych2go attempts to include sources to posts for the purpose of generating discussions and commentaries. This will give readers a chance to critically examine psychology.

Fact submitted by: mental-health-advice

Post made by: haibeana

A little happy in the midst of all the sad

psych2go:




For more posts like these, go visit psych2go
Psych2go features various psychological findings and myths. In the future, psych2go attempts to include sources to posts for the purpose of generating discussions and commentaries. This will give readers a chance to critically examine psychology.
Fact submitted by: bonjourtammy

psych2go:


For more posts like these, go visit psych2go

Psych2go features various psychological findings and myths. In the future, psych2go attempts to include sources to posts for the purpose of generating discussions and commentaries. This will give readers a chance to critically examine psychology.

Fact submitted by: bonjourtammy

thetroothandnothingbutthetruth:

Why funny people kill themselves

Every. Last. Word.

Every. Last. Word.

whatshewanted:

absolutely love this!

I feel I am not qualified to discuss the suicide of a man like Robin Williams because for a long time I have held the iron taste of death clenched between my jaws and been unable to either bite down or release and there’s too much bitter fucking irony that we children of laughter seem to be so much sadder than we show ourselves to be and I don’t know I don’t know

I don’t usually care about celebrities but everyone in my family kind of wants to snap themselves in half and all I know is that when my brother went into the blackness that comes in waves he used to listen to tapes from Robin’s early days and through those moments relearned how to laugh again and I think Robin might have saved my brother’s life a couple of times and

my momma said “i grew up with him” she said “he did so much to make us laugh but this isn’t funny” and her eyes looked so sad i felt like she called the rain to her

today at work we were supposed to start off the camp day with jokes and instead we just read out his words like they were a poem and somehow our hearts quietly broke i never met the man and i feel like all of our smiles have become a funeral

i heard that at disneyworld they set off fireworks in honor of him as if to remind us of the way he shone like the stars even in the darkness and that made me cry more than anything

because i’m a very small girl with shaky hands and a heart as bloody as they get and i’m always the one making a joke about something because they can’t tell you’re vulnerable if you just hide it and i’ve been fighting the same monsters inside that eventually found him

i just want to make this world a place where people aren’t so lonely i want to make it easy to find peace outside of a final sleep i just hope you know that if you’re thinking of leaving that people you never met are going to weep and it won’t be pretty just imagine how those who love you feel it will rip them open from their hair to their feet and i know this because suicide has taken so many friends from me please just stay with us okay please i love you even though you might never know me i love you because we are under the same sun and same moon and both of us have tasted the whitedark of depression inside our teeth

you are not alone tonight, my love. you have me.

Live on tonight. That is how we continue the story. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

My family has always been private about our time spent together. It was our way of keeping one thing that was ours, with a man we shared with an entire world. But now that’s gone, and I feel stripped bare. My last day with him was his birthday, and I will be forever grateful that my brothers and I got to spend that time alone with him, sharing gifts and laughter. He was always warm, even in his darkest moments. While I’ll never, ever understand how he could be loved so deeply and not find it in his heart to stay, there’s minor comfort in knowing our grief and loss, in some small way, is shared with millions. It doesn’t help the pain, but at least it’s a burden countless others now know we carry, and so many have offered to help lighten the load. Thank you for that.

To those he touched who are sending kind words, know that one of his favorite things in the world was to make you all laugh. As for those who are sending negativity, know that some small, giggling part of him is sending a flock of pigeons to your house to poop on your car. Right after you’ve had it washed. After all, he loved to laugh too…

Dad was, is and always will be one of the kindest, most generous, gentlest souls I’ve ever known, and while there are few things I know for certain right now, one of them is that not just my world, but the entire world is forever a little darker, less colorful and less full of laughter in his absence. We’ll just have to work twice as hard to fill it back up again.

My only statement. My brothers’ are also online. Thank you for all your kindness, and goodbye for awhile guys. xo (via zeldawilliams)
I might never ever get out of bed

I might never ever get out of bed

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Manuel Cosentino. Behind A Little House.

Manuel Cosentino’s work ‘Behind a Little House’ is an intimate participatory art project where wall-mounted photographs and a participatory artist book lead the viewer to turn from an outside observer, a spectator, into an active participant.
The first image resembles a Big-Bang like notion, that sets everything into motion, while the last picture represents a new beginning – ‘that piece of ‘carte blanche’ that we are all given with our lives’. The book is an essential part of the project. By drawing into the book everybody is free to share their dream, hopes and fears, contributing to the world behind the little house or even destroying it. ‘As for the location, I never mention where the little house is, I prefer it to transcend geographical placement and become an idea. We all live under the same sky after all… ’

 

 

Website

covered-with-mist:

http://covered-with-mist.tumblr.com/