Even when you try to be nice to it, the world isn’t always merciful. It’ll eventually roll off you though! >0<

(via ill-fly-someday)

How would your life be different if…You stopped worrying about things you can’t control and started focusing on the things you can? Let today be the day…You free yourself from fruitless worry, seize the day and take effective action on things you can change.

 Steve Maraboli (via purplebuddhaproject)

Recently, I’ve been complaining a bit more. However, I feel like I can’t breathe. 

The days pass with a perpetual gloom filmed over my eyes. The frames continue to shift, and the night drifts faster than it should. When I breathe, my throat constricts and wrings out the last bit of life. All that’s left is an old, dirty window of a body, watching the clouds pass outside. 

I want to cry. I write for myself, but recently I haven’t been able to do that. I haven’t written for myself or for others. I haven’t written anything. I have written essays. I have written responses. Yet, I am told that my writing is too abstract, to vague - not understandable. So, I try to tweak and work with it. I try to change. I try to simplify as a teacher has told me to.

But this process reflects what I’m doing to myself. I don’t believe in myself and I am following others’ words. It is unlike advice, where I listen to suggestions and tweak. No, it feels like I’m inhabiting a completely different person, living a life constrained to detached, meaningless creation. 

So now, I aim to change this and revive myself. I want to live again. I need to write again. 

Sadly, even I as I write this, I realize that I am projecting myself through writing - not expressing. At least the first step in all of this is done - time to move on. 

I’m scared because I don’t feel alive. 

If you know someone who’s depressed, please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn’t a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather.

Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest, and best things you will ever do.




If you like dogs, have a dog, or happen to be a decent human being then please, please, PLEASE listen

Harlan are the UK’s last remaining breeders of beagles for use in experiments.

This company breeds beagles for the purpose of selling them to laboratories and universities and keep ‘donor beagles’

These dogs have their blood regularly drained and sold to laboratories and are subject to numerous experiments.

Some of these experiments include ‘toxicology experiments’ which entail the dogs wearing muzzles and being forced to inhale toxic substances such as cigarettes, bleach and oven cleaner.

If they aren’t killed during experiments, they’re eventually deemed useless and euthanised

A former employee reported to the Sunday Times that these poor beagles:

• are being punched and kicked by employees

• have profanities shaved into their fur and their faces daubed with felt tips

• are kept in dirty, cramped pens

These beagles are born to endure such a high level of pain and suffering that they self harm, kill themselves or each other

These beagles are being used in experiments because they are vulnerable and controllable and can’t make it stop.

If you’re a decent human being, please don’t just ignore this and bury your head in the sand because THIS IS HAPPENING TO PUPPIES RIGHT NOW and it takes less than 2 minutes of your time to bring them closer to seeing sunshine, breathing fresh air, going on walks and being loved and cuddled by someone who wants to take care of them

Please stop these poor dogs from suffering. They don’t have a voice to stop their pain and get help, but you do.

Please, be their voice, and sign here: PETITION

For more information: Click here


(via bra-ndnew)


Words of Emotion

(via willow-bird)

You can ask the universe for all the signs you want, but ultimately, we see what we want to see when we’re ready to see it.

Unknown (via psych-facts)


today was my last day in my creative writing class and my teacher gave everybody a piece of paper to write down a contract and to put it in our wallets. she said she did the same thing when she was younger and every now and then she’d brush by it and remember that she wanted to write. everybody took time to write out what they wanted and I just sat at the back of the class, sitting on the windowsill and I knew there was only one thing to write but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. at the end of the class after everybody left, I went to thank her for the year, and she told me that people should be reading my words for a long time, but they won’t be able to do that if I’m not around to write them. I showed her the blank piece of paper, and she said it was okay not to write anything, and then I wrote this. I learned the power of words in that class, I learned it was okay to vomit up half a dozen notebooks stained with blood and exploded pens because it means you have something to say.

(via kacidiane)