I understand quite clearly that we as human’s are not perfect. We all have our imperfections, our struggles, our faiths and our goals. These are all qualities that make us who we are. I’ve always compared it to that of a book. How our every little action is written in, making up all the pieces of a wonderes novel.
   The biggest part though are the struggles, while insignificant to one may be all the more real to another. One thing we as human’s do at one point or another is question our mortality.

   We question weather or not today or the next is worth the struggle. Sometimes we find that it’s not. Thus the depression infested suicide. As a mass we then question, ‘Why?’, Why would someone do that? Why would they think it was worth killing their self over? What was worth it? That’s where we as a people come in. To support others in their time of need, show them life is oh so much worth it. It truly is, no matter how you swing it.

   Some factors though make it hard. Trauma make it a mental shock every day. Along with infesting illness, so many struggles and depression.
   What ever it may be there will always be someone there for you until the end. Weather they are obvious or not they are there.

My question is, what if there really isn’t? (There is, but feels like it? Because the one who can help you can not reach?) What if no one takes what suppresses you so much seriously? What if you have no form of help? All especially in your low dips, your state’s of weakness. What then?

Please, I want your thoughts. I say all this because I need advice. I need some help, and it’s just so hard to talk about it when people just make you feel wrong for feeling the way you do. (?)

I’ve been considering lately taking this tumblr a step farther. And making a youtube channel where I can speak about the things that are dearest to me. (Art and such)
I like this idea… tell me. Would you be interested?

http://yardsellr.com/for_sale#!/goddess-window-2979559

Same difference.

I recently was perusing Google Maps and I sought out a place that brought back a lot of bad memories. I’m not sure why I felt the nostalgia but it was there.

I’ve never really had a hard time looking or finding something that had bad feelings connected to it. I mean I don’t feel good looking at it or thinking about what ever it is. But this time was diffrent.

As I scrolled closer and closer to where this place was I felt it in my chest. It hurt to breath and to look. I talk about occasionally how much I hated this part of my life but I never realized how… traumatic it was?

I don’t know how I feel about this. Seeing it, and remembering all the little things. Seeing the home was one thing, but to see my bedroom window there was another feeling. I don’t know…