humanity

Mental health is a fundamental right; the future of humanity depends on it.

Shattered past
Falling internally though my past, I am in slow-motion, free as a bird although I know this emotional state will not last long. There is an essence of misdirected tranquillity to cherish as I begin elegantly twirling, whirling to my eternally, doomed destiny. As I reach terminal velocity my conscience begins to fade and with a final grimace of the world I unintentionally constructed, I begin to hallucinate…
By The Lioness5 years ago in Psyche
The storm
The gale howled not to dissimilar to Casanova as the sullen air ensued, the pitter patter of the rain against my souls embodied the orchestrated pursuit. The lighting reverberated off the ground transmitting an involuntary shudder which traced my spine. Conflicted, I halted just for an instance as the flicker of light and trundling of thunder cause me to endeavour in my bearings portraying what ceases to exist as my mind began to reminisce…
By The Lioness5 years ago in Psyche
This Year I Want to Die
In my twenties I used to start the new year with strict resolutions, I followed them for a month, then usually forgot about them by the time the sun began shining again.
By Moni V.5 years ago in Psyche
Taking Time to Explore Inner Landscapes
There is bottomless silence, broken only by the deep breaths of a slender, naked figure as he pushes further and further down a lonely tunnel. He is surrounded by palpable darkness but moves forward with intention.
By ,.,5 years ago in Psyche
From Block to Boss:The Diary of an Addict Part 1
Every morning I woke up, feverish, chills running down my spine. My skin felt like tiny needles were pricking me all over. It was as if my epidermis had the carbonation of a freshly opened Sprite. Nausea overcame all my senses. Shaking and sweating, I rolled over searching my nightstand for the cure. Checking the clock, it was 3 AM. My 6-month-old baby still soundly asleep. I opened the drawer on the table. Small, blue glassine bags tucked neatly inside individual mini Ziploc pouches, were strewn all throughout the drawer. I rifled through them, choosing the two that looked the fullest. I began emptying them on the screen of my phone. I used to use my ID, or whatever card was readily available to sort them into lines, but I didn’t bother anymore. What did it matter what shape it was in when I put the heroin up my nose? Shaking, I reached over and grabbed the first dollar bill that my fingers could reach inside of my purse. As carefully as I could, I rolled the bill into a tube and inhaled my instant cure. I lay back, letting my mucus absorb the brownish powder substance and let it drip down the back of my throat. Within minutes, the shaking stopped. The chills went away. My skin didn’t hurt to be touched anymore. I was well again. I peered out of my bedroom window. We were in the middle of a snowstorm. 20 inches of pure white climbed almost to the top of the window frame. Maybe today I’ll have some peace and quiet. Luckily for me, I wasn’t just an addict- I was the supplier as well.
By Jessica LaConte5 years ago in Psyche
My voice in the Mirror
You know when a character has a moral conflict in an animated or comedic movie and the little angel version of themselves appears on one shoulder and a devil appears on the other? It's always been a fun dynamic, visualizing the conflict people have in their heads as they have their inner thoughts displayed to the audience. I wish the mirror was like that. I wish my head was like that actually, letting me actually know what's right and wrong. Every single time I want to think, I find myself drifting to the mirror.
By The DemonMaster5 years ago in Psyche
From Block to Boss- The Diary of an Addict Part 1
Every morning I woke up, feverish, chills running down my spine. My skin felt like tiny needles were pricking me all over. It was as if my epidermis had the carbonation of a freshly opened Sprite. Nausea overcame all my senses. Shaking and sweating, I rolled over searching my nightstand for the cure. Checking the clock, it was 3 AM. My 6-month-old baby still soundly asleep. I opened the drawer on the table. Small, blue glassine bags tucked neatly inside individual mini Ziploc pouches, were strewn all throughout the drawer. I rifled through them, choosing the two that looked the fullest. I began emptying them on the screen of my phone. I used to use my ID, or whatever card was readily available to sort them into lines, but I didn’t bother anymore. What did it matter what shape it was in when I put the heroin up my nose? Shaking, I reached over and grabbed the first dollar bill that my fingers could reach inside of my purse. As carefully as I could, I rolled the bill into a tube and inhaled my instant cure. I lay back, letting my mucus absorb the brownish powder substance and let it drip down the back of my throat. Within minutes, the shaking stopped. The chills went away. My skin didn’t hurt to be touched anymore. I was well again. I peered out of my bedroom window. We were in the middle of a snowstorm. 20 inches of pure white climbed almost to the top of the window frame. Maybe today I’ll have some peace and quiet. Luckily for me, I wasn’t just an addict- I was the supplier as well.
By Jessica LaConte5 years ago in Psyche
The Cypress Tree and the Night’s sky
Before work every morning I rise and paint the city and nearby surroundings. Most mornings, I don't get to finish because I have to hurry off to work and meet the demands of daily life. However, I cannot sleep when the sun rises. The sun creeps into my window every morning, and like a warm friend reminds me of the day's immediate demands. This is even with a cloth over my window. With my mind hazes, I take off the window covering and am nearly blinded by the glaze of our galaxy's only star. It appears completely red most mornings and covers the sky briefly with a yellow tint like my skin.
By Michael Mannen5 years ago in Psyche
"A True Sociopath"
I know that everyday life for the average person is hard. It's downright difficult to make money, provide for a family, and balance a schedule. In addition, constantly filtering your emotions through the accepted purifier of social norms is an unending task. For the run of the mill Tom, Dick, and Harry life is a constant struggle.
By Fabricating Fiction5 years ago in Psyche
Generational Trauma
We are all living in our own unique worlds. And no one can understand your life nor you theirs. Don’t believe me? Let me take you on a walk down the rabbit hole.
By Connie Sahlin5 years ago in Psyche
Dying has taught me how to live
I am dying. In fact, according to medical statistics, I should have died ten years ago. More recently, in June 2020, my palliative care specialist told me that based on my CT scan results, I had 3-6 months to live.
By Rebecca Sanciolo Haslam5 years ago in Psyche
The Edge Of The World
As I step towards the cliff, the wind pushes hard against me. It may have been trying to convince me to go back the way from whence I came. But I have already traveled that path and it led me here. I make my way to the edge, peering down at the steep drop, I am unable to see the end. A thick gray fog blocks my vision, not only from the drop itself but also from what lies beyond. The cliff continues for miles in either direction, but that worries me not. I am exactly where I need to be.
By Destinee Romero5 years ago in Psyche