yeah i admit i’m not exactly a practicing bisexual anymore…i pretty much only go to services on the high holidays…i slept in on freddie mercury’s birthday…i don’t even think i can name three david bowie albums anymore
And that’s how with a few minor adjustments, you can turn a regular gun into 5 guns
Riders look out at the newly renovated Banff Springs Hotel, 1929.
Ruby made the best little Margot.
Staten Island Ferry Commuters by Gordon Parks, 1946 (via)
"what if this happy and colorful fantasy world actually takes place in the mind of one of the characters who’s actually miserable/mentally ill/in a coma!?”
I hardly can begin to understand my bipolar disorder, it’s been under a year since my diagnoses and despite the cycle of moods it has brought me through I feel I am only just beginning to grasp its very basics.
But still, let me try and tell you something.
It’s like I own two pairs of glasses. Mania, rose tinted, turning my vision increasingly sharp, magnifying the world to it’s unlimited potential. Everything is in my grasp and I want to touch it, to hold it close now now now. It doesn’t matter that the rent is unpaid or the class is at 9:30, everything is bright and wonderful and I have never been better.
Depression is my darkest pair of sunglasses, it is the wrong prescription, wandering from bed to bathroom to bed again only by muscle memory because everything is in a fog. I reach out to my left, to my right and find nothing. My depth perception is gone, I reach inward, to touch my face and cannot seem to find it. This sadness will last forever.
The glasses are not a permanent fixture, eventually one or the other comes off and I see the world as it really is, or how I think it must be. Your eyes are changed by wearing the wrong kind of glasses too long.