“But he lied to me; but she hurt me; but it’s not fair; but he didn’t keep his word; but they rejected me; but he broke my heart; but I can’t stand injustice…”

And all I am is your whispering heart, “Go home. Go home.”

What should I do? You asked.
And I have no answers but your own tumbling echo, “Go home. Go home.”

Go home to yourself. Inward, Inward.
Enough of wallowing in stories.
Yes love, these are all just stories. It is not to say your pain isn’t real, it sure is, but the stories aren’t. They are illusion. No one is in front of you, there’s nobody there, except you.

Are you ready for Freedom? Are you aiming for Truth? Are you looking for the Love? Have you had enough of this bullshit?
If so, go home.
Go home to yourself, or forever be a beggar passes from person to person, from one drama to another, all which supplies you nothing but imaginary stories, fills nothing but your imaginary holes; Oh, and only deepens your true and pure craving; Home.

Stop knocking on doors, dear. You will not get a penny. Stop searching for justice, dear. There is none to be found. Only what Is.
Know this, anyone who wants to stay in the stories, will keep getting them. Because we have a world full of stories, harsh and tough ones. Full of delusion, full of illusions of fights and falling in love, passions and desires, possessions and ownerships. But if you want freedom, go home.

Look how wonderful! What a blessing! So many opportunities to return home. All the signs are pointing at you. Will you choose to ignore them? Will you choose to consciously stay in the “he and she and them and that”? Are you going to brush away another opportunity to look inside?

This home is full of light. In this home there’s nothing lacking, In this home you are love.
This home is you. Thus, “wherever you are is the entry point”. Now dear, all you have to do is to choose to enter in.

**possible trigger warning**
I consider myself recovered from any eating disorders, but things still trigger me. Movies and entertainment are my biggest triggers, next to social media. I’m overly cautious of Hollywood blockbusters now, because they tend to idealize skinny, gaunt, pale women the most (Mad Max was awesome and fucking rad, but awful at the same time for me because of the terrible female casting–still a great movie though, don’t get me wrong. I just wish these movies came with warnings). It’s been harder lately, especially, because I went on a bulk and I can’t shake my “I’m getting a little chubby” insecurities. But I’m sticking with it, and if anyone points out my weight gain I’m just going to reply with “Awesome. I look great”. I cannot tell you how often my friends or my own family have pointed out my weight. People have no chill. Mind your own damn business please.

anonymous asked:

Dating Sim AU: imagine the fan letters Bill sends to Dipper's VA


there are so many ways this can go down… does bill write creepy letters about how he buys as much dipper merch as he can and that he embraces anything with dipper’s face on it?? 

or is bill a shakespearean poet and dipper’s smitten when reading these elegant masterpieces going “wow this person must be so sweet” but then he finally meets bill irl and realizes that they represent the very meaning of chaos and the term no-indoor-voice

Oggi mi è tornato in mente uno degli episodi più toccanti della mia vita.
A Natale andai con i miei al cimitero di Ercolano, dove sono sepolti i miei nonni, stavamo facendo il giro delle tombe di altri parenti defunti, quando arrivammo ad un salone dove c'era un uomo anziano, magro e debole, ma probabilmente l'aggettivo più appropriato per descriverlo era: distrutto.
Era in piedi davanti ad una tomba.
E stava parlando tra le lacrime, con una mano sul viso, non gli importava che ci fosse un via vai di persone che lo poteva vedere.
Lui parlava distrutto di quanto la perdita di questa persona gli avesse fatto male, di come si sentisse, raccontava di quello che gli era successo in quei giorni.
A distanza di mesi mi stupisco ancora di come in pochi minuti io abbia assistito ad una parte così privata della vita di qualcuno che non conosco attraverso poche parole.
Non so se quella fosse la tomba della moglie, di un fratello o del figlio.
So solo che era Amore il sentimento che legava questo signore con la persona che se ne era andata.
E di una cosa sono certa, vorrei qualcuno che facesse così quando toccherà a me.
—  Innamorata-delle-parole

throughsandandsnow asked:

87. Puzzled

One day I decide do inspection of Best Shop of Best workshop!

I find strange rock! I find strange hole! I put strange rock in strange hole!

It click!

I hear grind! See wall move up! This wall no design for to be moving! I sure it violate some regulation!

I investigate!

H̀͘͜͝e̕͘͢l̴͘͘͝l̢̛o̶̷҉̛!҉̛ says I to dark! It no say anything back!

I go inside!


Wall move down! Wall no suppose to move down!

I no can make it out!

I hear noise as fate seal self!

It kék͜e̶kèke̸ke̡!

What happen?

Is person out there?

Can send help?