Whilst talking to my wonderful boyfriend about how to raise children well, I started talking about my mom. About how she never acted like I was too young to understand or should be sheltered by something. I learned about abortion when I was really young, and about sex when I was seven. She’d tell me she loved me all of the time, and she’d rewrite songs for me constantly.
I suddenly got this mental image of her holding me as an infant, and cuddling me and singing to me and telling me how much she loved me. And that picture was so beautiful in my mind, that I almost started to cry. I’m actually choking up as I type this.
And then I started to think about her mom, and how I know her mom was that way, too. (Now I’m crying for real.) All I can think is that I hope and pray to God that I’ll be that perfect of a mother - as both of them.
I figure I have a really good upbringing, so I figure I’ve got a shot.
Madrigal - site 8; 8:20am (7:45 warm up) Dylan’s solo - site 10; 9:10am Orchestra - site 12; 11:44am (11:20 warm up) Theatre - site 10; 1:24pm Dylan theatre - site 9; 1:42pm Classical solo - site 9; 3:06pm
Averbeck: “For those of you that have done this for multiple years, you know that time is relative for this event.”
So I’m sitting here on my bed, It’s nearing on 4am, I’m doing nothing - thinking about nothing, And I hear someone’s music playing in their car. They’re driving so slowly down the block that I can still hear it as I type this.
Thing is, it wasn’t the typical obnoxious I-could-sing-along-with-that-because-it’s-so-loud volume that’s heard these days. I actually had to look around my room for a moment and focus on the sound. I clearly heard guitars, but it was so faint it could’ve just been in my mind. Easily. I thought for a moment that a song was just stuck so loudly in my head that I was confusing myself by thinking it was an external noise. (It wouldn’t be the first time this has happened to me - look up migraines and schizophrenia. I dare you.) Something about it was kinda cool, though. I don’t know how else to explain it.
It was a sound so quiet that most people would just overlook it, But it actually made me stop what I was doing and try to figure out what it was. Sometimes we just need to stop and be quiet, Because more often than not, it’s the barely audible moments that are the most important.
reblog this if you know someone who has either cut themselves committed suicide attempted suicide suffered/s from depression
or if you have attempted suicide cut your self suffered from depression
the mental state that someone must be in to want to end their life is extremely serious and is very frightening for those who care about them, this message needs to be broadcast for the world to see and know
I want to write you a love poem as headlong as our creek after thaw when we stand on its dangerous banks and watch it carry with it every twig every dry leaf and branch in its path every scruple when we see it so swollen with runoff that even as we watch we must grab each other and step back we must grab each other or get our shoes soaked we must grab each other