“I was depressed. I knew I was lost, but I had no idea how to find myself again. It was as though I was a different person, an infuriating, disappointing yet indispensable person whose body was my only home.”—Yasmina Khadra, What the Day Owes the Night (via anamorphosis-and-isolate)
There’s a certain emptiness inside. One that I’ve known for some weeks now and have tried to fill with books, and lots of reading, music and all-nighters in the studio, and writing, and hanging out more. I accept any invitation to hang out just to escape it, even if only for a few hours. Nothing excites me. Nothing appeals to me. Everybody is ghostly. I know i should be praying but I’m just not interested. My paranoia level is at an all time high. I have become totally incredulous, overanalyzing the people in my life…mentally discarding some and reevaluating others. I’m wearing my porcupine skin again. And I’m using more curse words, lately, than Samuel L. Jackson has used in all his movies combined. Occasionally, I’d replay hurtful things ever said to me and resent the fact that i never fought back, promising myself that if anyone fucked with me again this time…
That’s how i know everything is not okay. And that, too, is okay. I never write about such darkness and i try to emanate as much positive energy as i possibly can. I’ve known depression before. The only difference this time is that I’m armed with experience and a wealth a knowledge. So I kinda understand what I’m going through and, maybe, why I’m going through it. But it changes not the fact that i hate it.
“Until we have met the monsters in ourselves, we keep trying to slay them in the outer world. And we find that we cannot. For all darkness in the world stems from darkness in the heart. And it is there that we must do our work.”—Marianne Williamson (via jordan-phoenix)
“It’s not always about sex, sometimes the best type of intimacy is where you just lay back, laugh together at the stupidest things, hold each other, and enjoy each others’ company.”—(via wecallthisliving)