#Depresed

[alay-alexander]

A veces vuelvo a sentir esa presión en el pecho que una vez me hizo alejarme de todos.

[es0tericdoll]

Being too pretty so god had to cursed me with depression ♡

[swisstuff]

¡¿Por qué la vida sigue?! Por qué la vida siempre sigue, por qué no puede parar un momento y esperar que me calme, que me siento muy mal y tengo muchas ganas de llorar

[predicoperonopractico]

Estoy cansada de las lecciones de vida, de ser el conducto para los demás de que encuentren a alguien mejor.

Constanza A. 🌻

[gnevritual]

This is a very unusual painting. I had already noticed that some either show me the future or something similar, or depict events involving other people. But this one... To be honest, it unsettled me. I didn’t know exactly who the person in it was, but I simply created it. The essence was that in the playroom, a small rabbit was slaughtered, and a girl was running out with a knife in her hand. Blood was supposed to have splattered on the walls and her dress. From her expression in the painting, you can see that she feels not so much guilty as completely bewildered, as if this had been her child and, because of her, such a terrible tragedy occurred. We see on the floor a balloon in the shape of a heart, almost fully deflated as if taking its last breath. And it lies in a pool of blood, which says far more than I need to explain here. In short, the painting was very depressing.

I still clearly remember that at the time, one of my close friends, with whom I had a very strong bond and still do, was pregnant and about to give birth. She was abroad then and was debating whether to return to our country. And at one moment, I realized that the painting was trying to warn me about what awaited her.

I froze. I couldn’t continue working on it. I understood that the child was facing death. I took a knife, and, saying “no,” I cut the entire canvas with a steady hand. I didn’t want to have any influence over what would happen because I felt a part of the responsibility rested on my actions. Even though it was just a painting and a brush in my hands, I believe in much greater forces, and I believe they somehow act through my body and life. Every work I paint carries with it information that can materialize, but somehow it visits me first and shows me the event. So I took the knife and simply destroyed the painting. I didn’t want to contribute to what might happen. Once I had completely shredded it, I burned it.

A few hours later, I learned that my friend had decided to return to our country and give birth here. Her decision was very serious because when she returned and the time came to give birth, there were complications. Had she stayed in the other country, she wouldn’t have understood the doctors, nor they her, and a cesarean section would have been performed. But along with that, there was a 90% chance the child wouldn’t have survived.

So, after this painting, it was hard for me to paint others for some time. I realized how a simple drawing, the information within it, which comes before the event, and failing to change it, could have such consequences. I don’t know if this is a gift or a curse, but it’s very challenging to see and understand what exactly a painting is trying to say.

Nevertheless, I continue my painting and try to discover recurring symbols in them so that I can at least begin to orient myself not only intuitively but also visually.

I also forgot to mention the details in the painting. On one of the balloons that the rabbit was holding, it said ‘Happy Birthday.’ On the chair, there was a cake, and on the clock, there was my birth time and date. Plus, on the walls, there were several faces, almost like observers, and the number of those faces matched the number of people who were in the delivery room when she gave birth.

The painting seemed to be speaking to me, but it was only at the last moment that I realized what it was trying to say. The important thing is that I managed to take the right step, as I see it, and interrupted that story, which was slowly being painted.

[just-a-random-dude404]

I wish I was born before the 2000s :(

[thelastkingsworld]

Es ist der 01.01.25 und ich bin müde. Müde von all dem was mein Leben ist und der Realität das es nie so sein wird wie es sollte. Tag ein Tag aus ist es das selbe und egal wie sehr ich es versuche zu ändern, es bleibt gleich.

Man passt nirgends rein uns egal was ist, man ist immer auf sich gestellt. Keine Hilfe nichts.

Jeden Tag nur die leere und das wissen nicht dazugehören und reinzupassen.

Manchmal wünschte ich mir einfach zu verschwinden...

[margaritas-floreciendo]

a veces las ganas de desaparecer me consumen

[andrea-y-sus-demonios]

Después de 5 años de sobriedad, anoche me volví a cortar… se sintió tan bien, la cuchilla sobre mi piel, la sangre saliendo, lo necesitaba.

[mujsilenejdenik]

[w-h-i-t-e-m-o-o-n]

Cuiden su salud mental porque la depresión también duerme, se baña, maquilla, desayuna, camina, estudia, trabaja, sonríe y casi siempre se ve feliz...

[deceased-butterfy]

don’t you just love it when your parents get mad at you for having a depressive episode? being told i’m selfish and ungrateful is exactly what i need right now

[swisstuff]

He escrito mucho sobre monstruos, lo que sucede es que los he visto, sentido y me han dañado demasiado, pero ahora que algunos se han marchado, o más bien últimamente me estoy preguntando, ¿Los verdaderos monstruos no serán las emociones? Es increíble el daño tan grande que puede provocar algo tan intangible, las emociones actúan cómo demonios, nos hacen perder el control, nos poseen, pueden ocupar nuestro cuerpo durante períodos bastante prolongados, nos hacen decir cosas que no queremos, hacerle daño al resto y a nosotros mismos, nos hacen actuar cómo no somos, hacer cosas que no queremos hacer y lo peor de todo es sentir y no poder dejar de hacerlo por mucho que trates de mantenerte cuerdo, la peor es la rabia, no tengo dudas de eso. La rabia es el peor monstruo, al final te hace más daño a ti que lo que le hace al resto, actúa cómo un ácido y quema, solo imagina tenerla tan adentro de ti... Ya lo he dicho antes, la rabia puede inclusive pudrir un corazón, esta duda nació porque mis propias emociones me hicieron dejar de tenerle miedo a los supuestos monstruos, a los demonios, al horror. Tengo un gran secreto, y lo oculto tanto pero tanto que inclusive a veces yo misma lo ignoro por mi propio bien; Le tengo miedo a mis emociones, les tengo miedo cuando actúan igual que demonios, les tengo miedo cuando activan mi cerebro y lo bombardean de pensamientos, me da miedo sentir, en estos días me da miedo sentir, cuando ocurren cosas malas, me da miedo sentir, cuando me hacen daño, cuando me lastiman, me da miedo sentir, me da mucho miedo, ojalá pudiera ocultarme, pero no, las emociones están adentro de mi, volví a leer "los monstruos que se fueron" y lo entendí, debo dejar de culpar al infierno.

Y empezar a poner mi atención en mi.

[predicoperonopractico]

Rompeme el corazón de una, cagón

Yo ya grité a los cuatro vientos que te amo. Y que te odio, unas cuantas otras veces también. Me enojé mil veces y lo titulé como "estamos peleados" de onda nada más, porque la única peleada siempre fui yo. Te dejé de hablar para siempre como en quince siempres, y prometí no buscarte nunca más montones de nuncas. Palabra no tuve, pero sí unos ovarios de la concha de la lora. Mucha decisión y por sobre todas las cosas, eternas ganas de estar bien. Y siempre fidelidad a lo que me pasara, aunque cambiara de un día para el otro o no fuera lo más correcto a los ojos del resto. O tuyos. Ah, eso, al final ya me chupaban un huevo tus ojos. Salvo cuando me mirabas así, medio achinadito porque te diviertía, porque justo no me habías hecho enojar y te hacía reir. Es nuestra mejor versión, sabés, ¿no?

Bueno, ¿y vos? Pendejo tibio. Me lastimaste de a poquito, y no porque creíste que me cuidabas, sino porque sos un cagón. Me rompiste el corazón de a partes. Te cuidaste las dudas y me destruíste de igual manera que si lo hubieras hecho de una, con la única diferencia de que me hiciste perder un montón de tiempo. Y el corazón se rearma, algún día, de alguna forma, o al menos eso dicen. Pero los días de quererte al pedo no vuelven nunca más.

Y lo peor es que te voy a querer siempre. Y este siempre creo que es de verdad.

Nati J

[gnevritual]

A little heart on the floor..

It was supposed to be a girl, running out of the children's room with a knife in her hand, while that sweet but pitiful rabbit in the corner, with its intestines spilling out, looked at her with a sad gaze, as it breathed its last breath, its eyes filled with tears, feeling how its heart, balloon-shaped on the floor, released its final air. But if you still think I allowed that to happen, the next post might even shock you

[royalpinkmess]

You started the letter it by saying that you don't know how to make letters and that you love me. There is at least one lie there, because the letter is well done. You wrote that you never expected to be with someone for so long (neither did I) and that you hoped it would last forever (me too). I miss you every time I breathe, I feel you every time I close my eyes. Every day I spend without you I love you a little more, if possible. Telling you that I was leaving you was like ripping my heart out of my chest with my bare hands, I felt like I was dying. And now I feel like I'm dying every day that I don't have you. My best friend hates you and i don’t know how to tell her i want to humiliate myself and write to you again. I wonder if you lied twice. I wonder how much you lied. I look at old pictures of us and those strangers seem so happy to be with each other. I don’t know that girl in the pictures that looks like me. I don’t know the girl i see in the mirror. Please tell me you only lied once. Please tell me that you love me one more time.

I wonder what it means, that i wrote ‘you’ so much that it almost looks bad. But it dosen’t. It is almost natural, maybe you have to be here.