#depress

Moisture falls from the sky, cleansing the world and sustaining precious life. But it's the gloom - the cold, dark air - that receives notice. We fail to see the miracle of raindrops through our own tears. ↗

— Richelle E. Goodrich

#despair #discouragement #ingratitude #misery #rain

Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don't kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, "He fought so hard." And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody simply gave up. This is quite wrong. ↗

— Sally Brampton

#suicide #dog

In the morning you were never violently sorry-- you made no resolutions, but if you had overdone it and your heart was slightly out of order, you went on the wagon for a few days without saying anything about it, and waited until an accumulation of nervous boredom projected you into another party. ↗

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

#parties #short-story

If you put the wrong foods in your body, you are contaminated and dirty and your stomach swells. Then the voice says, Why did you do that? Don't you know better? Ugly and wicked, you are disgusting to me. ↗

— Bethany Pierce

#anorexic #bulimia #bulimic #depression #eating-disorder

Midland City had a goddess of discord all its own. This was a goddess who could not dance, would not dance, and hated everybody at the high school. She would like to claw away her face, she told us, so that people would stop seeing things in it that had nothing to do with what she was like inside. She was ready to die at any time, she said, because what men and boys thought about her and tried to do to her made her so ashamed. One of the first things she was going to do when she got to heaven, she said, was to ask somebody what was written on her face and why had it been put there. ↗

— Kurt Vonnegut

#depression #face #goddess #self-concept #shame

-Ouve esta música? É a expressão da minha vida: uma partitura admirável, estragada por um horrível, por um infame executante... ↗

— Mário de Sá-Carneiro

#life #sadness #life

If I could make you stay, I would,’ he shouted. ‘If I had to beat you, chain you, starve you—if I could make you stay, I would.’ He turned back into the room; the wind blew his hair. He shook his finger at me, grotesquely playful. ‘One day, perhaps, you will wish I had. ↗

— James Baldwin

#love #love

As a confirmed melancholic, I can testify that the best and maybe only antidote for melancholia is action. However, like most melancholics, I suffer also from sloth. ↗

— Edward Abbey

#cures #depression #depression-humor #modern-life #humor

Not Waving but Drowning Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning. Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he's dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said. Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning. ↗

— Stevie Smith

#isolation #life

When you're cold and unloving, he'll walk through a fire to earn your love, but the second you give your love to him, he'll drag you by your hair, and throw you into the fire. Never show your vulneralbility, instead embody the Seductress. ↗

— Euphoria Godsent

#heart-broken #love #love-hurts #lovesick #seductress