one thats really difficult. and just the tiniest thing set it off. doesnt make any sense. but its true. stupid stupid stupid you. making me upset. i rely on you to cheer me up when im down. you probably dont know i do it. but you do whether you mean to or not. so now im sad. and youre the reason.
finish and give out all my letters. buy everyone the perfect gift. throw a party worth remembering. have a beach bonfire. go on a road trip. go all the lioddities with genny. take lots of film pictures. have loads of baking days. have loads of ice skating days. have movie days. plan that concert. go on shopping sprees. have city days. make memories.
“Deep grief sometimes is almost like a specific location, a coordinate on a map of time. When you are standing in that forest of sorrow, you cannot imagine that you could ever find your way to a better place. But if someone can assure you that they themselves have stood in that same place, and now have moved on, sometimes this will bring hope.”—Elizabeth Gilbert (via julie911)
People think depression is about being sad. They think it’s just when you ‘feel down’. It’s not. It’s like a darkness that creeps over you and fills you. It drains all your emotions. It takes everything from you, and leaves you feeling hollow and numb. It’s not sadness, it’s not anger, it’s hopelessness. Imagine waking up and there being no colour. Walking outside and feeling no wind. Eating a meal and tasting nothing. Holding someone and feeling completely alone at the same time. When you’re depressed, it’s not a bad mood. It’s a numb, empty, hollowness that seems to never leave. It’s feeling alone in a room full of people. You feel like there’s no hope left.
“Sometimes I didn’t even feel like getting out of bed. I took to wearing my days-of-the-week panties out of order. It could be Monday and I’d have on underwear saying Thursday. I just didn’t care.”—The Secret Life of Bees, Sue Monk Kidd (via apathie)
Remember that year that I made you a mix-USB for your birthday, because you’d complained about not being able to make me a mix-tape and educate me. I wrote you a letter about how you’d changed my life. I put some pictures on that USB, to remind us that we were young and hot and deliriously happy. This was one of the songs I put on it, even though neither of us particularly liked it.
You listened to it without me, and text me after every single song. This was the last one. The text said ‘I can imagine you sitting on the end of my bed, playing some crummy old guitar and singing this soppy shit to me. I love you.’ I answered with a simple sentence: ‘I can’t even play guitar, idiot.’
Don’t say a word just come over, and lie here with me Cause I’m just about to set fire to everything I see I want you so bad I’ll go back on the things I believe There I just said it, I’m scared you’ll forget about me