because what kind of ******* human
leaves the one who loved them
the most and lets them rot alone?

*-z. vega

Dear Readers,

Tomorrow  (10th of September 2016) is a day called Suicide Awareness Day.  And I believe it is nothing to be ashamed about. Every 40 seconds, someone is dying because another person did not speak up. This needs to stop.

There are truly beautiful souls out there that are suffering and battling with their thoughts and minds EVERY SINGLE DAY.  And I'm not putting it light. I mean EVERY SINGLE WAKING MOMENT OF EVERY SINGLE DAY.The stigma that revolves around suicide , depression and mental health in general needs to permanently dissolve.

It is PERFECTLY OKAY(to talk about your mental illness and/or your struggles...it is not at all healthy to keep heavy struggles within yourself. There are people out there that truly care and that truly want to help...and I know that seems like a lie when you are in a very dark place and that is EXACTLYwhy people need to start speaking about depression and suicide almost as if you are talking about having a cup of coffee. "I'm having a cup of coffee" can be said easily and without any fear, and that is how people who are suffering from ANY MENTAL ILLNESSESshould be made to feel.

We deserve to feel SAFE, SUPPORTED,  LOVED , APPRECIATED , UNDERSTOOD. We do not deserve to feel *MISUNDERSTOOD, UNAPPRECIATED. * And we do not deserve to be looked at or treated as parasites. People with mental illnesses have emotions too, and perhaps too many. People with mental illnesses deserve extra understanding, care and love.

So please, do not be afraid to speak up. Speak to your loved ones; a simple
"Are you okay? I just want you to know I love you and appreciate you" could save someone's life.

- Crimsyy♡

#health #wellbeing #mind #suicideawareness #awareness

Ps: **Please repost this if you agree and to show support to those suffering from depression. I promise it won't ruin your profile. Thankyou so much.

do you love me or
we just playin?
write it out on
my skin.
tell me bout your
nightmares,
tell me how the cold winter
makes you feel
tell me if you love me
and baby please tell
me now before
you find someone
who adores you
so much that
you get sick
when she's gone.
tell me now before
everything changes
and i start bangin
my head against steel beams
and screaming in my sleep
all because you ain't
around no more.

-*z. vega

he's strong
i'm wild
he's beautiful
and he sees everything in technicolor.
he's all i will never be
and i love him more than anything.

-*z. vega

late september. bare feet. fifth of jack.
as the sun broke from the wrath
of the unpiercable storm clouds that were blocking
its rays and sunk towards the horizon
the sky turned into a pink so striking
that it was like the world locked
lips and decided that it was
time for the downpour to end forever.

is that what freedom feels like?
when all the barriers that tear us apart
break, does it feel
like late september?
does it feel like walking along the coastline,
the stinging aroma of salt water,
the sound of the waves crashing into
the sand and the
wind whipping stray locks of hair
across your face?
does everything look sublime
and crystal clear?

freedom.
late september.
the most beautiful dream emerging from
a daunting nightmare.

-*z. vega

the only reason i met him was because i was leanin' up against the blood pumping, deafening, wall shaking heartbeat of one of the speakers amongst ceiling lights that looked like gleaming crystals hanging from the top of a cavern with drops of water trickling from them. we might as well have been in a cavern instead of a show in some guy's basement. he snapped me out of my late night daydream with one look and one shot of whiskey and we went upstairs and out to the front porch to the 4 foot tall grass in the front yard.

we sat there for a real long time.

and he had this voice that reminded me of the way it felt to sit on the golf course all night just to watch the sun rise, his eyes were like the jungle and the ocean and a tornado sky all in one and they widened and he grinned and kinda tugged at the edges of his sweatshirt as we talked about random things it turned out we both loved... lefty pitchers, astrology, horror movies, conspiracy theories, how rain feels on bare skin. he was kinda twisted and he was a sagittarius and he smoked turquoise american spirits like me. as far as i knew nobody in the world could replace the one who never left my head for 394 days and 394 nights. *******. here we go again.

i drove off at 1. i was the only girl there and since the day i came out of the womb i have been overly cautious of the fact that i can't spend the night even if i might fall asleep at the wheel and **** myself because i am a medium rare steak in the eyes of those boys and it's better for me to hurt myself than for one of them to hurt me.

"goodnight, spacey" he whispered as he softly pressed his lips against my cheek and i watched through the ***** windshield as he disappeared into an impenetrable fog. i never got the name of the most perfect human i'd ever came across. i wouldn't let it bother me. i wouldn't let it bother me. ****. i hate infatuation and what it does. so help me god.

-*z. vega

it smelled like love and a dive bar.
polishing liquid, flowers, stale smoke, patchouli oil.
the floor was covered in a blanket of antique carpets that
were the color of levi’s after being
mixed with bleach
and red lipstick that hadn't been removed
after 2 days that needed to be touched up.
that character practically lived
in the silver giant
and he decided that tapestries with the edges duct taped to the windowsills with designs
that were so deeply eloquent to the point
where the human brain could effortlessly get lost in them
were 300 times better than curtains.
there was a transistor radio in there,
oh, the good ol’ transistor that
was adored despite the raging amounts of
static that would pour out of
the speakers...
whenever the dead or zeppelin came
on the volume switch would turn as far
to the right as it would go.
he would smile
and within an hour
his fingers, bound in
layers of opal and turquoise rings would turn an ordinary
sheet of silver into
a glistening piece of magic.
every second spent in the airstream
was an abstract painting as tangled and mystifying
as those tapestries on the cracked
fingerprint stained windows,
where life took place in the subterranean depths
of the paper grains that no one
had dared to venture to.

-*z. vega