|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Sanity is for chumps.Do you ever just..
A gentle breeze can set just the right mood for a summer day as it cools
one's skin off with this Sun's rays heating it in equal competition.
Too cold? Grab a pullover.
Warmer than you wanted it to be? Take it off then.
An easily adaptable circumstance in most cases, especially when there are
not multiple bullets missing your body by mere millimeters and you can't
spare a second to wipe the sweat off your brow as you are dashing for near
Do you ever just..
It is a wonder how the world operates currently. In one location a Saudi
Arabian man barely gets through his day with the ragged clothes he wears,
a mind focused mainly on surviving the next night, an empty stomach, and a
Heineken bottle cap in his left pocket from last week. In another area there
is a Caucasian man who sits in his cubicle on the twenty-third floor, one
leg over the other, biting the eraser end of his pencil as he debates in
his head over whether he should go out with his buddies late
Empty skies.You are a bird.
It doesn't matter what kind of bird so long as it isn't a flightless one. (Ostrich, chicken, etcetera)
Each day you wake with one main goal: to fly high and fly even higher than yesterday. Everyone else is a bird with the same idea in mind. And in order to fly higher than normal, you need to find and share special and unique feathers that are hidden around the world to add to your wings. Not all these feathers are good and some can only be used once one is ready for them. (Based on strength, wit, achievements, you name it)
Now imagine that you were born with a birth defect in your wings, making it tougher for you to fly. You find plenty of feathers, but the majority you add and test out don't go well with your wings and cause you to crash back to earth time and time again. You don't know why that is because you subconsciously forget this disability of yours with so much going on in the world around you only to remember it again later, and strive to do better. Some days
This child's words.Dear parents,
Do you remember those days when I wasn't acting my cheery self?
Those moments when my expression is one similar to sulking or simply sad?
A night when I look like I've "lost my best friend"?
Have you considered it to be depression? Not because I was disappointed about something or someone insulted me. A depression that has been around far before anyone would have noticed and not triggered by outside forces.
This is my depression.
A constant influence that lingers just outside the naked eye's perception. Most days it hides away inside my mind, or heart (wherever you believe it would reside), calm and non-threatening. And then it erupts to the surface without even a split second of warning. The best worldly example I have for it is a tsunami, except you only know of its presence once you are struck by it. And you know there is no repelling or escaping it. You must wait for the water level to descend and then continue on with your days. Unlike a tsunami though, it isn't as c
Four in the morning with sighs and fear.You know, I really wish I had a more concerning and comprehendible problem, or so I believe people would find more worth their time. I wish I had severely broken a bone or had immense brain damage or even just couldn't read well because of dyslexia. But no, I simply have depression with a side of anxiety. And to top it off every night I fear that regret will resurface. Even during the day it pays unannounced visits. I can't just take anti-depressants or anxiety pills, talk to a counselor, or express my feelings through a positive activity. I've moved past the milligrams of medicine, the talks, and the fulfillment is never there even with things I like to do. My joys are dwindling; my bonds becoming unstable with others. I don't believe in myself anymore. Yet, I will wake the next day and continue to live because life is linear and consistent.
I want to forget. I can't forgive myself.
I want to forget what it was like to love someone else.
These days.So there is this guy who walks to work everyday, all dressed up in his nice suit. He is in his early thirties, in the middle class of society, lives alone, and doesn't have many friends. Each day is so routine that the weeks blend together and the months casually pass on by.
On one morning he leaves his apartment room to find a flower on his doormat. The flower was a daisy, wilting a bit on one side. Thinking nothing of it, he headed off to work. The next day, another flower. This intrigues him, but still ignores it and leaves for work yet again. Another day, another daisy. Whomever was doing this was persistent so he had a plan for tomorrow.
The following day he awoke earlier than he normally did and waited by his door. Upon hearing the scuffing of shoes, he quickly flung it open only to find a little girl standing there. She was dressed in rags and holding a daisy just like the others that were left on his doormat.
She was shocked, but stayed still with sweat dropping down her face.
Guilty choices.Here awake with heavy shame.
Waning strength, worn out days.
Accusing oneself of fictional crimes.
Mental death, my heart will cry.
It ails this body as well as mind.
Boundaries shake, casually lie.
The morrow is still foreboding.
Her absence, or her arrival?
These truths shall be told.Do you ever think of suicide? I do on occasion.
Not whether one would go through it or not, simply the idea or concept of it.
Debating on if this life is worth living. Searching for a meaning in what others have decided on being meaningless.
I've lost my path, or perhaps finally realized I never had one in the first place.
It is as if all I knew since being born was to walk straight in front of me, both blind and obedient, until one day when my vision was clear and could truly question with this new sight.
Why this? What does that accomplish? Who cares? Too many questions with few answers to suffice.
The days become worse than mundane. The color that objects and space had held has now bled away to leave them bleak and empty. Even a few shades of grey would liven things up, but no.
Pure white and outlines of black to indicate figures.
And time continues to move. I have always remembered the phrase "time waits for no man" and I couldn't have put it better myself. Time might seem to rush
Aches and pains.Sorrow is something one can not always avoid.
Woe is sometimes present on joyous days.
Sadness has reached pinnacles higher than both fear and doubt.
And now as our days continue to end on varying levels, the question of "how will I..?" must simply become "will I..?"
So, for you, is it a yes or a no?
You look surprised?Tired.
Tired of the days on today.
Nothing will change with mundane chain of events.
Yet each second yields a turn of these events.
Like a feeling.
Not to be confused with emotions. Unclassified, but clearly perceived.
Stealing command of the body from Mind. All too infuriating.
And now it is seen. This is an inevitability.
That’s it. I am done. I’ve said all that I wish.
Let us hope satisfaction has been met.
There is no need for a spontaneous freak out.
Mental Disorder Discrimination"You said you've got depression?
No you don't, you attention seeker.
You're just an average teenager with the perfect life
Desperately looking for sympathy."
Stop crying, you coward.
You're just a childish "scaredy-cat".
Blaming your problems on a mental disorder
That doesn't even exist."
"So you're schizophrenic?
Grow the hell up, and stop acting like a child
You're too old for imaginary friends
You callow, juvenile, little twit."
But if we're attention seekers,
Why do we try so hard to hide our feelings from the world?
Why do we isolate ourselves in our rooms,
Desperately hiding the cuts on our wrists
Trying our best to live a normal life?
And if we're simply "scaredy-cats",
Why is our fear so vividly intense?
Unlike simple fear, our anxiety will stick with us forever
A severe long-lasting feeling of powerful panic.
A feeling from which we'll never be free.
Suddenly we're childish for having a mental disorder?
Schizophrenia is not something we can control.
YouIf you’re a girl, you’re a girl.
If you’re a boy, you’re a boy.
If you’re white, you’re white.
If you’re black, you’re black.
If you’re gay, you’re gay.
If you’re bi, you’re bi.
If you’re straight, you’re straight.
If you’re religious, you’re religious.
If you’re an atheist, you’re an atheist.
If you’re mentally disabled, you’re still human.
If you’re physically disabled, you’re still human.
For everything you are:
So who are they to judge you for who you are?
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
daydreams and monsters.she was a girl.
she ran with the moon,
chased fireflies in the bluegrass, and
watched the reflection of sunsets in rain puddles.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
but to the dragonflies she was a queen,
and to the mirror she was a sister.
the moon was her prince, and the
blinking windows were the eyes
that kept her safe.
she spent her nights making wishes, and she
dragged her fingers along the shooting stars
that were tangled with her vertebrae.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
her body was a river
her mind was an ocean
and her heart was the sky.
she lived in a world where
doves flew in the sea and
whales swam in the
poem for borderlinesif i could concentrate over
seven hundred thousand eyes
at the roof to the numbers stepping
from the nicities & rows
to go back
to the shattered surface
& the ripples beating over the hang
halfway between shallow
biting lips. maybe--
she couldn't have known
that it takes a whole three minutes
for the lungs to
well, maybe she
who, oh well
the white; the haze--
the booming over
the spume and spray
me get out of my head
just pull up the shutters
my tongue the weight to talk
but that's all we'll ever be:
a match burning itself out for
under the backspray of someone else's wheels
Reflection.I'm here now.
Now where we once were. Now without you.
Bonds between two can be made instantaneously
and will both strengthen and weaken overtime.
Our bond was like any other: irregular, stressed,
and at times looking as if it might break. It
never did though. We mended each others wounds.
It took time; although, everything goes along with time.
I can't help reflecting on those days.
Sometimes moments that I had lost in the back
of my mind are found so easily while I waste the
night away. Your face, your voice, your character,
I remember it all. But what I recall and cherished
so much back then were your eyes. The window to
the soul, or so they say. To me they were a glimpse
into your heart. A heart that had known oppression,
begged for answers, and suffered loneliness.
So I did what I could, and with only a glimpse of
something so magnificent I gave it what every heart deserves.
I gave it love.
I did not even know it at the time. Regardless, I had
done it. Whether intended or not, you
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More