Karma Slutra
Depression is not Lana Del Rey music, with smeared black eyeliner and tears running down your face. It is not a blood-stained tub, or the blade sitting across from you. It is not being rocked back and forth by a boy as he kisses your head and whispers “I love you,” repeatedly in your ear. Depression is not the dread you feel when the person you love the most doesn’t text you back. Depression is disgusting. It is low and filthy and dirty and it eats you away, bit by bit. Depression is the stale smell of your room and your clothes, because you have no energy to clean anything. It is sitting in the bathtub for hours as you feel that dirty type of clean, letting the hot water run down your body in no aims to stand up and turn it off. It is the hunch in your back and the the defeated slouch in your shoulders, the kind that your parents always try to fix, exclaiming “Sit up straight,” but what good does that ever do. Depression is the hours spent lying in your bed, trying desperately to fall asleep but never being able to. It is your eyes being so heavy-lidded and the circles under them that don’t fade, even after a good nights sleep. Depression is the sinking feeling you get when you enter school and your mind is already set - why would you care about your grades when you don’t even care about your life? It is the darkest kind of dark, the kind that intoxicates your brain and turns your best friends to enemies, your family to people you simply push away so they don’t have to hurt just because you do. It is the raw feeling of emptiness, the kind that gnaws at your very insides and leaves you nothing more than a walking skeleton, incapacitated and incapable of feeling anything but sorrow and sadness for nobody but yourself. Depression is the deepest hole you could ever think of, the only one you could ever think of because you dug it yourself. It is being not only unable, but unwilling to pull yourself up, having the darkness swallow you whole. Depression is not rain. It is being unable to see the sun, even after the rain has passed. It is 2015. Stop romanticizing depression. (via lighthowell)

randomfandomteacher:

Whoop there it is

Remember kids, if someone speaks funny in a language it’s probably because they know more than one language… and if you were going to make fun of them you probably only know one. 


100,033 plays

greed:

lunarledges:

I hope no one did this already

oH MY GOD

wrxecution:
“tigerwang:
“ everyday when I take the subway to work I imagine Chihiro and No-Face riding with me
”
The Old C train is host to these activities usually, yes
”

wrxecution:

tigerwang:

everyday when I take the subway to work I imagine Chihiro and No-Face riding with me

The Old C train is host to these activities usually, yes

thistimearoundmn:
“ vivalalexii:
“ hitlerch4n:
“ ledi-babushka-soski:
“ weloveinterracial:
“ Black Teen With White Parents Mistaken For Burglar, Assaulted By Cops In His Own Home
‘Put your hands on the door, I was like, ‘For what? This is my house.’...

thistimearoundmn:

vivalalexii:

hitlerch4n:

ledi-babushka-soski:

weloveinterracial:

Black Teen With White Parents Mistaken For Burglar, Assaulted By Cops In His Own Home

‘Put your hands on the door, I was like, ‘For what? This is my house.’ Police pointed at photos of white people hanging on the wall and told him that he was lying.

A North Carolina teen was recently assaulted and pepper sprayed by police in his own home, after he was mistaken for a burglar.  18-year-old DeShawn Currie has been living with foster parents Ricky and Stacy Tyler in Wake County, North Carolina for about a year.

The Tylers love DeShawn as their own son and they have taken him into their home, in hopes to provide him the safe and loving environment that he needs to thrive in the most important years of his life.

Unfortunately, some of the Tyler’s neighbors were not familiar with the family dynamics of the home, and decided to call the police to report a burglary when they saw the young man entering his home after school one day.  DeShawn did not climb through a window or struggle to get inside, but simply walked through the unlocked door of the home.  The only thing that actually made his neighbors suspicious, was the color of his skin.

When police arrived on the scene they treated DeShawn like a criminal without asking any questions.

“They was like, ‘Put your hands on the door, I was like, ‘For what? This is my house.’ I was like, ‘Why are y’all in here?” DeShawn said in an interview.

When DeShawn asked the officers why they were in his home, they pointed at photos of white people hanging on the wall and told him that he was lying.

“I’m feeling comfortable, I had moved into my room, and I’m feeling like I’m loved. And then when they come in and they just profile me and say that I’m not who I am. And that I do not stay here because there was white kids on the wall, that really made me mad,” DeShawn later told reporters.

During the entire altercation, police were shouting profanity at the young man, and pointing multiple guns at his face.  When DeShawn stood firm and insisted that he was in fact in his own home, police attacked him with pepper spray.

When Stacy Tyler came home from work she saw her son DeShawn in the driveway being treated by paramedics for the injuries that police had inflicted.

“My 5-year-old last night, she looked at me and said, ‘Mama I don’t understand why they hated our brother, and they had to come in and hurt him,” Stay Tyler told reporters.

“Everything that we’ve worked so hard for in the past years was stripped away yesterday in just a matter of moments,” father Ricky Tyler added.

The police department has defended their actions, saying that that DeShawn did not obey the officer’s orders to the letter, despite the fact that they were intruders in his home and had no right to be there barking orders at him.

Now this is something to bring attention to.

Yes

im ashamed i live in this county

Burn it all down.

mygoldmine:
“ Beautiful and intricate craftsmanship at the otherworldly Manish Arora S/S 2015 Collection
”

mygoldmine:

Beautiful and intricate craftsmanship at the otherworldly Manish Arora S/S 2015 Collection

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