There are two moments of love that have shaped my life despite neither of them being my love story. When I was thirteen, my grandma was on her deathbed and the family was called in. My mom and her sister and brothers and my grandfather were in the hospital room with her, and my cousins and dad and I were outside, in the hallway. But the door was open. I could hear the tears, and the heart monitor start to slow down ever so slowly, but I also heard the words that will follow me for the rest of my life. It was my grandpa, my pappy, and he said to her, ‘You’re still the prettiest girl I ever saw.’ And then my grandma breathed in her last breath and the heart monitor flatlined.
The second was when I was older, when I was sixteen, and there was a car accident outside of my school, blocking the way in. I went around the back road though, so I was in the student parking lot. This guy that I knew, a grade ahead of me, was in the lot as well, pacing back and forth, his face red and stained with tears. He watched me get out of my car and then pointed at the accident below. ‘Have you seen Rieley?!’ He asked me frantically, and continue pointing down at the crash. There was a car wrapped around a tree that looked a lot like Rieley’s little red car, but he already knew that, of course. I told him no, I hadn’t seen her, but right as I did a little red car pulled in beside us. I watched his whole face brighten up and he wiped away the tears. Rieley barely had her door open before he had her off of her feet into his arms and his mouth pressed to hers.
They hadn’t even been dating, they were just best friends. On that day though, he didn’t care, he just knew that he was in love with her. They were inseparable from then on, and they’re engaged now, all because of that one moment.
I’ve seen true love. I’ve seen love that’s lasted over fifty years, until a dying day and well passed that. I’ve seen desperate young love finally realized. Maybe I don’t have a love of my own yet, but I definitely know I’ve seen love. I know it’s real.
Mermaid by Sergey Kolesov
Ok, that’s fucking terrifying and cool.
woah I love this interpretation of mermaids. not human sized, but the size of like a blue whale
oh my god i never even considered this. this is bad ass
And another thing to put in my collection of reasons not to go near natural bodies of water.
Depression is humiliating. It turns intelligent, kind people into zombies who can’t wash a dish or change their socks. It affects the ability to think clearly, to feel anything, to ascribe value to your children, your lifelong passions, your relative good fortune. It scoops out your normal healthy ability to cope with bad days and bad news, and replaces it with an unrecognizable sludge that finds no pleasure, no delight, no point in anything outside of bed. You alienate your friends because you can’t comport yourself socially, you risk your job because you can’t concentrate, you live in moderate squalor because you have no energy to stand up, let alone take out the garbage. You become pathetic and you know it. And you have no capacity to stop the downward plunge. You have no perspective, no emotional reserves, no faith that it will get better. So you feel guilty and ashamed of your inability to deal with life like a regular human, which exacerbates the depression and the isolation.
Depression is humiliating.
If you’ve never been depressed, thank your lucky stars and back off the folks who take a pill so they can make eye contact with the grocery store cashier. No one on earth would choose the nightmare of depression over an averagely turbulent normal life.
It’s not an incapacity to cope with day to day living in the modern world. It’s an incapacity to function. At all. If you and your loved ones have been spared, every blessing to you. If depression has taken root in you or your loved ones, every blessing to you, too.
Depression is humiliating.
No one chooses it. No one deserves it. It runs in families, it ruins families. You cannot imagine what it takes to feign normalcy, to show up to work, to make a dentist appointment, to pay bills, to walk your dog, to return library books on time, to keep enough toilet paper on hand, when you are exerting most of your capacity on trying not to kill yourself. Depression is real. Just because you’ve never had it doesn’t make it imaginary. Compassion is also real. And a depressed person may cling desperately to it until they are out of the woods and they may remember your compassion for the rest of their lives as a force greater than their depression. Have a heart. Judge not lest ye be judged.