Forwarded from Deleted Account
>take lorazepam
>forget about it
>oh i should take lorazepam.. also i should take 2 bc that's more fun
>wake up
>ten pills are gone
>forget about it
>oh i should take lorazepam.. also i should take 2 bc that's more fun
>wake up
>ten pills are gone
Edvard Munch - Melancholy (1894)
The man in this painting is Jappe Nilssen, a close friend of Munch. Nilssen had a romantic affair with a married woman who finally decided to stay with her husband, causing a deep sadness in the painter's friend. In this work, a thoughtful Nilssen sits by the shore, looking at the horizon, while in the background we can appreciate the shapes of a woman and a man about to get on a wooden boat, representing the lost love of Munch's friend. The misty colors and elongated contours convey the sadness and impotence the character feels after this love deception.
The man in this painting is Jappe Nilssen, a close friend of Munch. Nilssen had a romantic affair with a married woman who finally decided to stay with her husband, causing a deep sadness in the painter's friend. In this work, a thoughtful Nilssen sits by the shore, looking at the horizon, while in the background we can appreciate the shapes of a woman and a man about to get on a wooden boat, representing the lost love of Munch's friend. The misty colors and elongated contours convey the sadness and impotence the character feels after this love deception.
I am a patient boy
I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait
My time is like water down a drain
Everybody's moving, everybody's moving
Everybody's moving, moving, moving, moving
Please don't leave me to remain
I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait
My time is like water down a drain
Everybody's moving, everybody's moving
Everybody's moving, moving, moving, moving
Please don't leave me to remain
Forwarded from alcoholic.exe
Once again, I've drunk wine. I like to tilt the glass upwards hard, and swallow as big a gulp as I can, and settle the glass back down.
Then, an odd duality emerges within me: fire inside, and ice along my arms, which raises my hair up. I love that feeling. Next, comes nausea, which has to be battled.
I sit or lie down, I know it will only last a short time. Five minutes, ten minutes tops. The nausea must be psychological: once drunk, it doesn't rear its ugly head anymore.
Or it might physical: the drunker I get, the less I feel my body. But how drunk do I aim to be? This is only a glass. I don't seek to obliterate my mind anymore.
The merits of moderation! What drunkard can lay claim to this absolutely magical "tuning in" to the world that the reasonable person accesses, after three or four glasses?
There is no doubt about it, this is a master-slave relationship. If you don't dominate alcohol, it will own you.
Then, an odd duality emerges within me: fire inside, and ice along my arms, which raises my hair up. I love that feeling. Next, comes nausea, which has to be battled.
I sit or lie down, I know it will only last a short time. Five minutes, ten minutes tops. The nausea must be psychological: once drunk, it doesn't rear its ugly head anymore.
Or it might physical: the drunker I get, the less I feel my body. But how drunk do I aim to be? This is only a glass. I don't seek to obliterate my mind anymore.
The merits of moderation! What drunkard can lay claim to this absolutely magical "tuning in" to the world that the reasonable person accesses, after three or four glasses?
There is no doubt about it, this is a master-slave relationship. If you don't dominate alcohol, it will own you.