The pulp of pulp by Bridget Collins
"Only the wind remember"
“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”
– Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis (via anamorphosis-and-isolate)
She cannot move so you can do anything you want.
about a girl whose hands were trembling so much that she could not hold his heart. one day it slipped out and broke. now she is trying to cure it with her warmth, as she did that memorable winter with the fox.
(photo dedicated to my Husband, 2014)
I don’t know what to do today, help me decide.
Should I cut myself open and pour my heart on these pages? Or should I sit here and do nothing, nobody’s asking anything of me afterall.
Should I jump off the cliff that has my heart beating so and develop my wings on the way down? Or should I step back from the edge, and let the others deal with this thing called courage.
Should I stare back at the existential abyss that haunts me so and try desperately to grab from it a sense of self? Or should I keep walking half-asleep, only half-looking at it every now and then in times in which I can’t help doing anything but?
Should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?
– Albert Camus (via sonjabarbaric)
“It’s so difficult to describe depression to someone who’s never been there, because it’s not sadness. I know sadness. Sadness is to cry and to feel. But it’s that cold absence of feeling— that really hollowed-out feeling.”
– J.K. Rowling (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
“I get it now; I didn’t get it then. That life is about losing and about doing it as gracefully as possible…and enjoying everything in between.”
– Mia Farrow (via observando)