In French, the verb blesser means ‘to wound.’ In English, ‘to bless’ is to confer spiritual power on someone or something by words or gestures. When children are christened or baptized in some Christian churches, the priest or minister blesses them by sprinkling holy water on their faces. But the modern word has darker, stranger roots. It comes from the Old English bletsian which mean ‘to sprinkle with blood’ and makes me think of ancient, grim forms of religious sacrifice where blood not water was the liquid possessing supernatural power - makes me remember standing as a boy so close to a scene of violence that the blood of it baptized me. To wound, to confer spiritual power, to sprinkle with blood.
— Gregory Orr, The Blessing, pp. 3-4 (via spiritandteeth)

run-boy:

I’ve been waiting to see this film! The music is composed by Micachu. 

(Source: seanboyy)

Depression is hard to understand, because it is not a consistent state. Depression is rather like a virus, but like a virus, it has its manageable days and its acute, life-threatening flare-ups. You can be in a depression and still laugh at a friend’s joke or have a good night at dinner or manage low-level functioning. You grocery shop and stop to pet a puppy on the corner, talk to friends in a café, maybe write something you don’t hate. When this happens, you might examine your day for clues like reading tea leaves in a cup: Was it the egg for breakfast that made the difference? The three-mile run? You think, well, maybe this thing has moved on now. And you make no sudden moves for fear of attracting its abusive attention again.

But other times…

Other times, it’s as if a hole is opening inside you, wider and wider, pressing against your lungs, pushing your internal organs into unnatural places, and you cannot draw a true breath. You are breaking inside, slowly, and everything that keeps you tethered to your life, all of your normal responses, is being sucked through the hole like an airlock emptying into space. These are the times Holly Golightly called the Mean Reds.

I call it White Knuckling it.

Miles and Miles of No Man’s Land, Libba Bray (via babybirched)

"But the stigma of depression is that it comes with the sense that you shouldn’t have it to begin with. That it is self-indulgence or emotional incompetence rather than actual illness."

(via sonchorizos)

whoa.

(via keeperofthehouse)

When it’s White Knuckle Time, you will have to remind yourself to stand in the middle of the subway platform, well away from the edge.”

There is an undertow to depression. It doesn’t take you all at once. It leaves you with some false sense that you are coping. That you are in control. That you have the shore still well in sight, until, at some point, you raise your head to find yourself all alone, battered by rough seas with absolutely no idea which way you should swim.”

 

Jesus, every damn word of this post. It’s remarkable.

(via foulmouthedliberty)

herminehesse:

Amazing handmade textile by Anita Quansah—created from deconstructed vintage and recycled fabrics

The Smiths - The Hand That Rocks The Cradle
1,796 plays

luxurioussortofdevil:

For you are all that matters

and I’ll love you till the day I die

doin that park thing

There are years that ask questions and years that answer.
— Zora Neale Hurston 

(Source: rippedoutpagesofmymind)

I’m not really a happy person. It’s a question of temperament. I have a tendency toward melancholy. You can feel quite happily melancholic.
— Michael Haneke, from My Life (2009)

gay8:

Isabel Reitemeyer
no, thank you, 2014 

Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.
— The Little Prince 

(Source: psych-facts)