But you can call me Shredder

*Disclaimer: All pictures are borrowed, but written word is mine, unless mentioned otherwise
The demons threaten to surface their ruthless heads again. I clutch at the sheets in vain. They will not save me. They cannot if they wanted to. As I’m engulfed in darkness again, I can’t help but wonder if this is it. It might be. That is something I need to be prepared for. I look up to see light. Bright, dazzling white light. Oh hundreds of books I’ve read, is this what y’all were talking about? My trusty nerves of steel have deserted me.  I start to shiver and the light hits me. My scrunched-up eyes feel a chill. Which quickly turns into a raging fever. I open my eyes to a tormenting sight-my dog, standing  at a distance, gazing at me, imploring me to leave. I long to go stroke her head. I know I can’t. Even pictures of the subconscious won’t let you touch that which isn’t your anymore. Before I can even register what was happening, she begins to wither away, before my eyes. My subconscious is more cruel than usual today, I muse. Then I look up. Again. Boy, that was a mistake. A tall silhouette is approaching me. Recognition dawns. I step forward and something slices at my heart. I try again and *rip* across my waist. It starts to hurt. A lot. I don’t understand. I try one last time before I hit the mud. All sensation creeps away from my almost-corpse of a body. And suddenly it occurs to me. Something someone said to me.
"It’s what you do. You resist and resist until there is nothing left to resist. Until there is nothing left all together." 
At long last, clarity. With resignation, I close my eyes.

And then I open them again. Wondering why my subconscious didn’t send me away, like she does in her cruel pictures. 
Artist: Russ Mills  (via colin-vian)

The demons threaten to surface their ruthless heads again. I clutch at the sheets in vain. They will not save me. They cannot if they wanted to. As I’m engulfed in darkness again, I can’t help but wonder if this is it. It might be. That is something I need to be prepared for. I look up to see light. Bright, dazzling white light. Oh hundreds of books I’ve read, is this what y’all were talking about? My trusty nerves of steel have deserted me.  I start to shiver and the light hits me. My scrunched-up eyes feel a chill. Which quickly turns into a raging fever. I open my eyes to a tormenting sight-my dog, standing  at a distance, gazing at me, imploring me to leave. I long to go stroke her head. I know I can’t. Even pictures of the subconscious won’t let you touch that which isn’t your anymore. Before I can even register what was happening, she begins to wither away, before my eyes. My subconscious is more cruel than usual today, I muse. Then I look up. Again. Boy, that was a mistake. A tall silhouette is approaching me. Recognition dawns. I step forward and something slices at my heart. I try again and *rip* across my waist. It starts to hurt. A lot. I don’t understand. I try one last time before I hit the mud. All sensation creeps away from my almost-corpse of a body. And suddenly it occurs to me. Something someone said to me.

"It’s what you do. You resist and resist until there is nothing left to resist. Until there is nothing left all together." 

At long last, clarity. With resignation, I close my eyes.

And then I open them again. Wondering why my subconscious didn’t send me away, like she does in her cruel pictures. 

Artist: Russ Mills  (via colin-vian)

(via iznogoodgood)

You can’t fall if you don’t climb. But there’s no joy in living your whole life on the ground.

Unknown (via psych-facts)

(via davesingh)

The hardest period in life is one’s twenties. It’s a shame because you’re your most gorgeous and you’re physically in peak condition. But it’s actually when you’re most insecure and full of self-doubt. When you don’t know what’s going to happen, it’s frightening.

—Helen Mirren, Esquire interview (via katiic)

(Source: sarahjoyetotheworld, via abluekindofgreen)

The present changes the past. Looking back you do not find what you left behind.

—Kiran Desai, The Inheritance of Loss (via observando)

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.

—Washington Irving (via observando)

You don’t need water to feel like you’re drowning, do you?

—Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes (via observando)

poornakatha:

bahamabhava:

"Balasaraswati was a performer of music and dance in the seventh generation, and belonged to the professional women’s community with more than a thousand years of history. Evidence indicates that her ancestors were among the artists who have received the patronage of the royal family of Thanjavur in the mid-eighteenth century." 

And also the first to perform outside temples and start to reclaim the place for Sadir in Indian culture. If we dance today, if learning Bharatanatyam is considered a good thing, it is, in large part, due to her.

Wonderment

I have found more wonder in the eyes of an innocent infant than in the windows of a knowing soul. I look into her warm grey eyes (the first time ever I saw a grey that warm!) and I search for the joy she finds in clenching her grandmother’s finger. I watch her trying to catch the wind and wonder if I ever did try to catch the chill that brushed past my cheek. I watch her eyes well up with tears, her throat struggling to voice her pain, as her eyes scrunch down in confusion. I watch her look at her mother and smile, a quick, heart-stopping smile and all I want to do is keep it safe for her. And maybe steal a pinch of that unadulterated wonder, unfettered love, pure happiness.

The winds of change are upon us
Stories of perturbed leaves and shaken branches
With terrified eyes, we look up to stars
But gone are they, in a flurry of stormy stances.
We realize a great deal of this-
All that is known and true, are now up to chances.
But the storm will be gone from within us
We must look up and take those chances.
For we will see a different sky, a dawn and dusk
With glimmers of hope everywhere, and the brightest star that dances.

Illustration - Kalen Chock

The winds of change are upon us

Stories of perturbed leaves and shaken branches

With terrified eyes, we look up to stars

But gone are they, in a flurry of stormy stances.

We realize a great deal of this-

All that is known and true, are now up to chances.

But the storm will be gone from within us

We must look up and take those chances.

For we will see a different sky, a dawn and dusk

With glimmers of hope everywhere, and the brightest star that dances.

Illustration - Kalen Chock

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