stay gold.

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systemofadowny:

ahmoses:

vertical-illusions:

skinny-depression:

cuts—and—bruises:

I’ve wanted to put this up for months now, but I don’t know how to even begin to explain it.
This is a picture that someone took of me standing on the top of a car park, seconds from ending my life. The person that took this uploaded it to twitter with the caption ‘tense moment…’ and it was put in the paper the next day.
It really bothered me that this person took this, but did nothing to stop me. The last thing I wanted at that moment was to be saved, I just wanted to be dead, gone forever, away from the pain. Despite this, it really hurt me that someone could take a picture of me literally seconds from being dead, and act like it was okay. Luckily I was talked down by a woman who then took me for a coffee and comforted me while I cried for hours, but this person just stood, watching, doing nothing.
When I saw this it made me think, does anyone actually care? This person uploaded a photo of someone about to commit suicide to the Internet, probably for attention and retweets. I don’t particularly care for myself or how I feel, but the fact this person was so heartless and didn’t even care to call the police or even a member of staff in the car park just makes me so angry. I don’t understand how you can watch someone doing this to themselves and not even blink an eye.
I don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I just want to say that whoever took this is selfish and has no soul, and I hope whoever they are feels fucking ashamed of themselves.

this girl is dead now.

Rest in peace, my dear.

Fucking hell

Noo, I remember first seeing this post :(

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desolve:

It will take just 37 seconds to read this and change your thinking..Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.His bed was next to the room’s only window.The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.The men talked for hours on end.They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation..Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.Although the other man could not hear the band - he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.Days, weeks and months passed.One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides the bed.It faced a blank wall.The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.She said, ‘Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.’Epilogue:There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations.Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled.If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can’t buy.‘Today is a gift, that is why it is called The Present .’The origin of this letter is unknown, but please pass it on.

this made me cry

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make an ass of myself..check
thank you and goodnight
I’m going to sleep. I hate myself. bye

4/22/13

عينيك مشرق البقاء عندما تمو: not that any of you care but

localites:

i’m kind of scared to say this outside my own thoughts but lately i’ve noticed i’m almost actually comfortable with who i am, as far as i know anyhow. aside from my infinite amount of flaws and insecurities (i’ll talk about those eventually) i feel all right about myself. i don’t mind how i look;…

(Source: vcr-sunset)

4/22/13

when you say my name i fall apart.

4/17/13

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corsicans:

west coast (par xomichelley)

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#i

Here’s what our parents never taught us:

You will stay up on your rooftop until sunlight peels away the husk of the moon,
chainsmoking cigarettes and reading Baudelaire, and
you will learn that you only ever want to fall in love with someone
who will stay up to watch the sun rise with you.

You will fall in love with train rides, and sooner or later you will
realize that nowhere seems like home anymore.

A woman will kiss you and you’ll think her lips are two petals
rubbing against your mouth.

You will not tell anyone that you liked it.
It’s okay.
It is beautiful to love humans in a world where love is a metaphor for lust.

You can leave if you want, with only your skin as a carry-on.

All you need is a twenty in your pocket and a bus ticket.
All you need is someone on the other end of the map, thinking about the supple
curves of your body, to guide you to a home that stretches out for miles
and miles on end.

You will lie to everyone you love.
They will love you anyways.

One day you’ll wake up and realize that you are too big for your own skin.

Molt.
Don’t be afraid.

Your body is a house where the shutters blow in and out
against the windowpane.

You are a hurricane-prone area.
The glass will break through often.

But it’s okay. I promise.

Remember,
a stranger once told you that the breeze
here is something worth writing poems about.

by
“Here’s What Our Parents Never Taught Us,” Shinji Moon

oh my gosh.
(via wethinkwedream)
(Source: commovente, via youre-a-real-bitch-nance)