Beauty in Darkness

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joseitothelegendary:

thefloydianworld:

Vergvoktre

beautiful…

(via iamthehappyprince)

vespertinavi:

My favorite Stephen Gammell illustrations from ‘Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark’.

(via creepydelusions)

My first attempts at making glitter jars.
i-want-a-cup-of-t:

imgfave - amazing and inspiring images unter We Heart It.





These two were supposedly based on a real couple, who said they wouldn’t board a life boat as long as there were younger people still aboard the ship. They both went below deck, presumably to their room, and that’s the last time they were seen.

;________________;

Isador & Ida Straus
The couple had been married for 41 years at the time of the disaster. They raised six children together, and were almost inseparable. On the rare occasion that they were apart, they wrote each other every day. They even celebrated their birthdays on the same day, although they were well apart from one another. During the sinking, Titanic’s officers pleaded with the 63 year old Ida to board a lifeboat and escape the disaster, but she repeatedly refused to leave her husband. Instead, she placed her maid in a lifeboat, taking her fur coat off and handing it to the maid while saying, “I won’t need this anymore”. At one point, she was convinced to enter one of the last two lifeboats, but jumped out as her husband walked away to rejoin him.
When last seen by witnesses, they were standing on deck, holding each other in a tight embrace. Their funeral drew some 6,000 mourners at Carnegie Hall.
A monument to them still stands in a Bronx cemetery, it’s inscription reads: “Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.”

why wasn’t the movie about them

why wasn’t the movie about them
experiencethenightmare:

Oliver Sykes | Bring Me The Horizon
“..and a lot of you say that we’ve saved your lives,
 and i want you to know that
 you guys saved my life.
From the bottom of my heart,
 I fucking mean it,
 I love you”
xxskittlez143xx:

I still think she’s beautiful <3

Reblog if your inbox is lonely and needs anons

(Source: whiskeyandspentbrass, via iwanttobeadored)

reblog if you want your followers to ask you anything they’re curious about.

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austincaarlile:

saltydreams:

whatyoudont-understand:

feedhertothesh4rks:

Gurl knows what’s up

Never thought id reblog Miley but she’s on point.

I love you

i actually don’t like miley but this wow.

"

This is not meant to be a sob story.
This is a poem to make you understand.

In the past year alone,
I have attempted suicide 4 times.
In the past year,
the police have come to my house 2 times.
In the past year I ran out of resources
and had to check myself into a treatment center.

In the treatment center,
there was a girl who had
welts on her arm deeper than mine.
It looked like she had
punched her fist through
a glass window
the way life had punched
the life out of her.

In the treatment center
there was a girl who had hallucinations
about a man standing in the corner
that terrified her so much
that she couldn’t stand still.

In the year before the last one,
I had two suicide attempts.
I was checked into an ER for my overdose
then a psychiatric hospital.

This is a poem about all the people
who have been bounced back to a hospital
every time they thought they got their life back together
only to let their mental illness catch them off guard again.

This is a poem for all the people
who are so weak that they
cannot stand on their own.

This is a poem for the people
whose eating disorders are so strong
that they will refuse food
even when they weigh 70 pounds
and are forced by hospital staff
to be fed by a tube.

This is a poem for the people
who have more hospital bracelets
than they do friends.

This is a poem about
how I have to take 8 pills a day
to function somewhat normally.

This is a poem about how I had
to drop out of public school
because my mental illness
has interfered with my eating,
my breathing, my sleeping,
and my ability to live.

This is a poem about
how I cannot count the number of people
who have told me they wanted to die
on two hands.

This is a poem about the 400,000
emergency room visits
for self inflicted injury in 2001.

This is a poem for the 30,622 
people who committed suicide in 2001.

This is a poem for everybody with a mental illness
who is more scared of being judged
than they are of death.

This is a poem for everybody who
has wanted to bleed away their pain.
This is a poem for everyone
that wanted to disappear,
hoping that if they shot themselves,
if they crashed their car,
that if they jumped off the roof of a building,
that they might shatter.

This is a poem for everyone
who has tried to choke the pain
out of their life.
This is a poem for everyone who hoped
that an overdose would be a peaceful death.

This is a fuck you to every hallucination,
every manic episode, every depressive episode,
every flashback, every panic attack, every nightmare,
every suicide attempt, every hospital visit,
every purge, every laxative, every crash diet,
every single doctor that told you you were doing it for attention,
every single bully that didn’t know what they were driving you to,
every family member that ever looked at you like you were a freak,
everybody that ever told you to “get over it”,
everybody who told you that you were faking it.
Everybody who ever told you that it wasn’t a big deal.

Would you still be saying the same thing at our funerals?
Do us all a favor and tell us how beautiful
we “were” while we’re still alive.
How beautiful we are .

This is a poem for everyone who ever thought
the world would be better off without them.
This is poem for everyone who ever needed
somebody to just listen without judging.
This is a poem for everyone who just needs someone
to care or believe in them.

This is not meant to be a sad poem.
This is not a poem about overexaggeration.
It is a poem about reality.
It is a poem to finally make you understand.

We are more than statistics.
We are stories.

"

- This Is Not A Sad Poem  (via thinstitutionalised)

(Source: expresswithsilence, via dis-continuedhorizon)