It's Him

The thing about depression...

... Is that it doesn't just go away.

This looks so simple and chic. I love it.

Henri Matisse’s studio, 1952

Sometimes

I think about such things as our willingness to breathe and keep on living when all is tragedy. But we are strong because we awoke in the morning because yesterday we did not die, and that is something to be joyous about.....sometimes.

It’s Mother’s Day coming up, so I’m thinking of all the women in my life and all the awesome roles they play (mothers, non-mothers, and never-mothers alike).

http://everythingisgoingtobeokcomic.com/well-behaved-women

So they really are bitches!

Only female mosquitoes bite, because they need the protein in your blood to produce their eggs. Source

Brings me joy.

Classic Hollywood Bloopers

Who will set me free

My pen is my comfort. Behold, my poem. *Who will set me free? I have been deceived, I believed my own lies. I am rooted to the earth, and I bare no fruit, only that of death. There is conflict within myself which holds me fast. I am in bondage to my own sin, which is eternally battling within. What gives life eventually gives one death. A cry of despair leaves my lips. I am disease, and whoever touches me, receives death. I do not possess the power of a life pleasing to live, for my leaves wither dry. I leave myself open and vulnerable to sin. I am rooted to the earth and I bare no fruit, only that of death. I wait for the one to set me free, to whom I will surrender all.

Nylon hosiery

First Romance No. 17, 1950s

Haha

Secrets of the girl...

One day, a lonely little girl knelt down to the ground, and stroked the roots of a growing tree. Ever strong it was that she was comforted by its silence.

Everyday she went to this tree and whispered to it, telling it all her secrets, knowing well her words would be locked away.

Years pass, but ever true, the tree was her north, and she could not stay away. The tree was big, as if every secret she told it watered it with life.

Ever beautiful this tree was, the leaves never falling, despite the change of season, longing for the girls presence. The tree was alive, yearning for the girls whispered words.

One day, the little girl, who now is ready to leave the earth as an old soul visits the tree one last time, with its beautiful strength and never falling leaves, strokes the roots one last time, and whispers her final goodbye.

The tree, feeling her spirit pass, sheds its own tears of loss, and it’s leaves fall away, floating into the sky, releasing all the secrets throughout the years. One by one, the leaves fall, and the final whisper was the first whisper of that lonely girl long ago: “Don’t leave me.”