Sunrise.

como se hace la luz dentro del ojo | © víctor m. alonso

“todo se hace en silencio \ como se hace la luz dentro del ojo” [Jaime Sabines]

I crave it.

i hate it here - taylor swift

My heart is not broken, just bruised in the shape of your name.

I’m seeing my doctor for an antidepressant tomorrow morning.

I’ve had depression since I was 10. Any period of time where I felt happy or safe was always temporary. With some therapy I made it past some of the hardest years of my life, and when I realized I was going to keep living, I decided I didn’t need treatment. I never asked for meds, and I didn’t look for therapy after I aged out of the program I was in.

I didn’t have friends or family that supported me, or even offered to talk. I understand now that none of them would have known what to say.

I wasn’t living. I thought that surviving was the point, and for a while it was. I survived some things that I don’t wish on anyone, but now I want to live.

I want to get up in the morning. I want to spend time going to coffee shops and farmers markets and travelling. I want to romanticize my life, not just drag myself through it.

I don’t know how tomorrow will go. I don’t know if I’ll have to try ten different meds before something works but I want to try.

I spent 30 years scraping by, hoping tomorrow comes and goes quickly.

I want to live again. 

Jalal ad-Din Muhammad ar-Rumi, All The Precious Words The Love Poems of Rumi, First published 1273

That man wrote THREE albums, THREE, about how devastating that relationship was to him and his mental health only to come running when they called again, six or seven years later, ready to pick right back up.

Love is a hell of a drug.

Joy Sullivan, from “These Days People Are Really Selling Me On California”, Instructions for Traveling West

realistically there is no chance i will have time to read, imma still bring a book though