Worrying is carrying tomorrow’s load with today’s strength—carrying two days at once. It is moving into tomorrow ahead of time. Worrying doesn’t empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.

— Someone keep reminding me of this, as I worry at least 5 years into the future every day. That’s a lot of days.

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]  

I’ve had a wonderful weekend with my love, based to a My Bloody Valentine soundtrack consisting of the entirety of Loveless, some Isn’t Anything, Sunny Sundae Smile, tracks from their rarities, and the New Record by MBV. This song particularly strikes me today.

Can this be me and Matt, every night?

Recently, I’ve been seeking a reality outside of my own. I finished a book and picked up two more from the library. I daydream and dream at night, fill my head with mindless tv images. I need an escape, but from what? Myself, I suppose.

Can this be me and Matt, every night?

Recently, I’ve been seeking a reality outside of my own. I finished a book and picked up two more from the library. I daydream and dream at night, fill my head with mindless tv images. I need an escape, but from what? Myself, I suppose.

bookspaperscissors:

Sunrise this morning..

Just lovely. Now I am inspired to paint.

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]  

I’m in one of those moods; the kind where you can’t help but listen to one song on repeat for hours at a time because it strikes you to the core, reaches inside your chest and pummels your heart, chills your bones, haunts you with beautiful lyrics that puncture your skull so all your tears escape, fleeing with them secret pain and deep desires. It’s a song you once fell in love with the moment it caressed your ears, a song that you listen to over and over again in hope that it will release you from everything—sadness, dullness, pessimism, anxiety, fear—with each loop. From everything. From yourself.

Hauntingly lovely music you wish will crush your very soul so a new you, a better you, an (almost) pain-free you, can emerge from the collapsed grim particles of fire and ice.

A not so simple melody and harmony to free each and everyone of your cells from the reign of your dangerous mind, the deceitful master of perception.

With each replay, take my soul, cleanse my mind, free me from my self…

-That kind of mood.

There are so many things that need to be finished, tasks that need to be completed, work that needs to be done, and it’s all piling up and up and up, but he just sits there tapping away at his laptop, sending hours upon hours doing nothing. This should be concerning to him; he should be worried. Everyone tells him this, constantly, warning him that if he doesn’t get his act together soon, it’ll be too late, he’ll fall too far behind, and he won’t be able to take it back. These are important thing. Time is running out. There are no second chances. It all washes over him like white noise, useless comments blurring together in an endless stream of do one thing or another, pay attention to this, watch out for that. He shows no outward panic, no sign that this affects him at all. They begin to think he doesn’t care, and perhaps he doesn’t. Perhaps he feels it’s pointless to do all this work only to have to do more work and more after that. Working to work to keep working; it all feels so monotonous. Perhaps, he thinks, perhaps he’ll try something different.

Try not to be so hard on yourself. It’ll be okay.
Try not to be so hard on yourself. It’ll be okay.

Try not to be so hard on yourself. It’ll be okay.
Try not to be so hard on yourself. It’ll be okay.
Try not to be so hard on yourself. It’ll be okay.
Try not to be so hard on yourself. It’ll be okay.
Try not to be so hard on yourself. It’ll be okay.

Well if that ain’t the truth

Well if that ain’t the truth

film-grain:

(by Cheney.)

Just looking at this increases my mood.

film-grain:

(by Cheney.)

Just looking at this increases my mood.