For people who kill themselves

Posts tagged Addiction

But you never know who sees you, so don’t be invisible.

I love people I don’t like for being themselves.

Pablo Picasso spent his career trying to paint like a child.

The best advice I ever got in recovery was to knock yourself out.

Let’s be honest your going to anyway.

Enjoying the ride?

When no-one loves what you do,

Love them so you can (love what you do)

And they will end up loving you anyway

Even if they don’t


And I don’t mean confession

I mean never making a mistake

Not even one, ever.

Get it?

You’re alright!


Description: Looking head on at craving, trying to set foot in a new land of okayness. To glimpse what I have wanted ever since I remember something not being right. I feel like this is a win today.

Transcription: because he is sitting there (Kanye) and he says even after he has all the shit. Material, s. That he still feels suicidal and he’s still addicted to percosets and doesn’t even realise it. And i thought, who do i wanna be? Do i wanna be someone, do i wanna be something that is controlled by some secret power that invades every hour, or do i wanna fight? Do i wanna fight for my freedom? What do i wanna, what do i wanna experience. Do i want reality or do i want drugs? Coz i have reality right now. Am i willing to fight for it? Do i wanna be remembered as someone who, was a genius? Or do i wanna be remembered as someone who had. Love. It’s more than courage. It’s. To, to want something new is more than courage. It’s death. It’s death of: being good enough it’s, of being loved, being excited, having fun. But it’s also the death of fear. Man that old life is just calling, all the time. All – the – time. And I tell other people to wake up. And they snap at me. But how do i know it’s possible? If i wont sit. In this, apparent hell. Crow crowing. In the unknown. In that lounge. The very thing i want. Is in front of me every day. And how many days have i run. Run from it. Given up. Given up on what i want. Which is to be free. Which is to love the moment. Red eyes. Hoarsesness. To love life.

We’ve had our share of troubles; gut ache, best friends. I will not try to be positive because it’s just as intolerable. I’ve come to grasp intellectually that some humans inherently and ungratefully can discern between horror movies and reality. I have wondered how a bed wetter goes from being unable to able, and the evil from bad to good though all I really have is there word.

I haven’t been taking the aspirin. I figured through self deception that as I mostly, actually sometimes eat well, that plaque wouldn’t adhere to the aortic stent, break off and lodge in my brain. Raised blood sugar is on the rowing team with thrombis and here I am by the river with a car full of melting moments.

Trouble eating is a great marketing tool for juicers. Spinach is like an eraser for yesterday but you can’t rub out dermatitis. Skin is king, you can’t make up with bulemic tricks.

I threw a tantrum earlier deciding that life had nothing to offer me and I was going to sit on my mattress until I’d gotten to the root of why the world thinks I’m bad with my hands. You know, I muted the phone then turned off the phone then punched the floor then set up the camera to record me punching the floor and knew in my heart that I’d figure it out relaxing at the bakery.

Everything’s good again. The fisherman is pissing in the bush, cockatoos are playing, my sister got a tattoo gun and I’ve been to 3 life drawing classes in a row.