I was washing the dishes and harmonising with the music playing through my phone when I noticed an insect had become trapped in the web on the window in front of me. As quick as a flash the spider was there, frantically spinning the insect in silk confines. Eventually, the insect stopped struggling; I wasn’t sure if it had died or had just given up but it filled me with such sadness that I began to cry. Right there, hands still in the hot water clutching the plate I was washing, I collapsed on to my elbows and sobbed. I sobbed for the spider being able to eat that day. I sobbed because the insect died in the way that it probably feared most. I sobbed because, sometimes, your worst nightmare is someone else’s salvation.

absentions
Depression is stupid and not a thing that makes me a better writer. One time I went a whole year without writing and I stayed in bed and drank. Fuck your Bukowskisms. I want sunlight and love and running down some street I’ve never been on where it’s warm and cool at the same time and I’m smiling. I want nothing to ever be bad again- and I don’t mean that I want a life free of conflict, I mean that I want a life free of meaningless conflict. Not being able to will oneself to take a shower or leave the house is meaningless. There is nothing to be gained, no lesson to be learned from that kind of life. My heart is stale, my prose is stale. Give me fire if you want to hurt me. Give me something I can taste. There’s nothing romantic or mysterious about where I am. There’s nothing here worth holding onto.
By Joshua Espinoza  (via quibbler)

I’m institutionalised by depression, I know nothing else. I don’t mourn the happiness I never had; I lust for the happiness that I am supposed to have. If you have never felt the sun on your face, you can never truly miss it. You just know that there is a part of you that needs to feel that kiss of warmth, and you will continue touching kettles until you finally find what you have been missing.

mydrunkkitchen

mydrunkkitchen:

Previously, researchers had misidentified skeletons as male simply because they were buried with their swords and shields. (Female remains were identified by their oval brooches, and not much else.) By studying osteological signs of gender within the bones themselves, researchers discovered that approximately half of the remains were actually female warriors, given a proper burial with their weapons.

I love science.

femininefreak

unbitrium:

offside-goal:

tales-of-a-clutsy-ninja:

BUSTY GIRL PROBLEMS

THIS IS AWFUL I’M NOT EVEN THAT BUSTY AND THIS IS MY EVERYDAY LIFE SCREW U BOOBS

I thought balls were bad but this post made me realizer girls how do you even live with dumbbells growing out of your chest obstructing everything girls are strong and not to be messed with

Forever my life. Great snuggle buddies though.

rosalarian
rosalarian:

When I said this, I didn’t mean it like “Don’t you DARE try to be a writer unless you’re doing it like this!” I meant it as a way to say hey, don’t worry so much when you’re writing. Stop thinking about this Great Story you have in your head and why is it not coming out like my perfect vision oh god I must actually be a horrible writer oh dammit this is terrible I’m a hack oh no! I’ll never be published and I’ll never be Successful or Important and why am I even trying dammit dammit dammit!
Which, of course, is way easier said than done. I haven’t met a creator in my life who doesn’t suffer from at least a touch of impostor syndrome, and I know I fall into this trap a lot. But the more you can avoid thinking about it, the more work you get done.
When you’re getting the ideas out, don’t think about editors, don’t think about readers, don’t think about writing a golden shiny piece of perfection. Just write.
Think about all that other stuff later. It’s distracting. Just write.
Just write.

This is everything.

rosalarian:

When I said this, I didn’t mean it like “Don’t you DARE try to be a writer unless you’re doing it like this!” I meant it as a way to say hey, don’t worry so much when you’re writing. Stop thinking about this Great Story you have in your head and why is it not coming out like my perfect vision oh god I must actually be a horrible writer oh dammit this is terrible I’m a hack oh no! I’ll never be published and I’ll never be Successful or Important and why am I even trying dammit dammit dammit!

Which, of course, is way easier said than done. I haven’t met a creator in my life who doesn’t suffer from at least a touch of impostor syndrome, and I know I fall into this trap a lot. But the more you can avoid thinking about it, the more work you get done.

When you’re getting the ideas out, don’t think about editors, don’t think about readers, don’t think about writing a golden shiny piece of perfection. Just write.

Think about all that other stuff later. It’s distracting. Just write.

Just write.

This is everything.