the more you struggle to attain happiness the heavier depression becomes but somewhere along the way you have to realize why you want to be happy What's the reason? If it's just because happiness feels good and the other thing doesn't then it's not enough the very search for happiness occurs because the mind thinks it's smarter than the heart. It thinks that it knows better what happiness is what a fool pathetic the mind doesn't know shit it's just a bully who coerces every other part of the being to agree with its twisted ideas And the heart, not being able to fight back because fighting involves hating an opponent, just surrenders, lets the mind have its way Do not seek to get rid of depression seek to be okay with having it Side with the heart, not with the mind The heart loves and accepts and you can't…
"Is having a few sextapes here and there enough to lose custody of my kids?" she asked. "I do porn. So what? It's just another job." "No," he said. "They took your kids because they were in the back seat of the car while you were giving head to a guy in front. You can hear their voices in the tape and even see them a little. That's very irresponsible of you." "Ah, fuck you. Who are you to judge me?" "Just someone who wouldn't perform sexual acts with children present. That makes me superior to you." "Well let's see you try to find a place for 'em after you've been evicted from the fourth house in three months. I think I made the right choice. I'm pretty sure I did. It was raining outside! Anyone took that into consideration? No! They just wanna point the finger and blame. It's…
(´,,•ω•,,)♡ ENGLISH TRANSLATION:some things can never be put back together
Some things can never
be put back together
after they’ve been
taken apart
No matter how much
willpower is involved
One of those things,
she now knew for sure,
was a marriage
Like the one
she was presently fleeing,
flying down the highway
like a fiend or a bat out of hell
Another such thing
could be her right hand
resting severed on the seat
there beside her
Though she wasn’t so
sure about the hand
Maybe if she made it
to the hospital in time?
Maybe
sparks blazing in her eyes, she watched him from across the fire sitting silently on her small log, bracing herself shivering a little “You see,” he said, “this fire gives off more sparks than flames.” She nodded And he went on, “It's because it uses souls as fuel. I'm burning things that once used to be part of people, things imbued with their essence. A favorite scarf gifted by a loved one before departing, a wife's beloved ring, a child's doll that resembles their mother, a purse that is seen as magical by a rich merchant who thinks she got rich by holding money in it, an army general's lucky loincloth. These objects have in them parts of the souls of people who used to own them. Other thieves think they're stealing things of value, but they don't know what true value means. Me, I'm no ordinary thief, as you…
“I wish I could write my feelings on the wings of a blue butterfly,” she said. “And then follow it around the room with a burning candle or a lighter until I burn it to a crumpling crisp. I would write about you on those wings, of course. I would go to sleep dressed in funeral attire, hiding your solar plexus between my legs, your skull between my breasts, my tongue circling around and around over and over again inside your orbits. I would decorate your skeletal mouth with rose petals and stick thorns between your teeth. And how many vertebrae do you think I can swallow without choking? D’you think that with training, in time, I could deep throat your whole spine?” His lips parted for a reply but she quickly sealed them back with a finger dipped in her body juices “Shh, don’t answer me with words, darling…
Daydreaming as a profession 