Whilst in Sydney in 1994, a man apparently tries to assassinate Prince Charles. And not a single fuck was given by His Royal Highness.
THEY’RE ALL JUST STARING AND JUDGING
"How rude…this bodyguard just shoved me!"
I want to be this rich and indifferent one day
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.
Just a set of quick photos I did for class.
you lost all your energy before you even walked out the door? you lazy bum
That’s exactly what a monday feels like
kinda what social anxiety feels like
I’M GONNA DO IT I’M GONNA DO THE THING WITH THE PEOPLE
*gets to door*
wait never mind i need to alphabetize my sock drawer
this is what chronic illness looks like. :( this is what I go through every single day. Only I’m at half empty before I even get out of bed… :\