Depress
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2628 creative works found
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This poor little bear helps everyone, but gets overlooked itself.
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Oil pastels on black A3 paper. / used a reference photo a wonderful friend took of me. thank you so much for that. / Classical style isn’t it. I’m enjoying oil pastels at the moment. I’m looking into blending techniques mostly. And yay! foreshortening! A lil. A girl full of hate falls in love too easily for her own good. kicking and screaming into paradise just to burn it down in an attempt to keep warm by a fire. she can hold back the tears but she can’t stop causing them. Oh how it hurts, more than ripping slowly at her own flesh, unstoppable by the numbing vodka that burns it’s way down her throat, keep swallowing, don’t breathe, maybe you’ll choke on it you stupid girl.
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This text is a continuation of that started in the piece immediately preceeding this: sketching mad. I started drinking one afternoon was sure I didn’t go out or see anyone but woke up in a pair of dirty women’s underwear. / I was at a palatial house with a goddess and threw up in her spa. Don’t know her name I don’t think I did even then. / Winters were the worst always lost and drunk and cold always wet and so fucking far to walk in the rain. / Crashing twisting in fear and self-loathing, detesting, despising, abhorring leper outcast unclean. And so goddamned SICK pathetically grateful for whichever nutcase girl was looking after me and holding my long dirty blonde hair out of the bucket. / “Why do you hate us all Paul? Why do you do this?” / “I don’t hate anyone. I have never hated anyone. I am the avatar of dismay. I am the boiling man. I am just too selfish to die. / One of my good friends threw himself from a building and I stayed drunk for weeks. An old and loyal friend fought me in sneering drunken fury, both of so full of poison that we could not even form fists. Neither of us spilling heart’s blood whilst we fought, so young and so completely ridiculous. / Drowning men. / My ex-girlfriend spat in my face that day. Tried to catch a bus and buy vodka with blood running everywhere again from my own cheap knife the despite boiling inside me, rage a crevasse of pathetic sadness and grief for myself. For Andrew. For all of us feeding from ourselves eating our own venom until it bubbled and frothed in our mouths. I didn’t know where I was just fucked it all up and sullied the memory of a good man. Lost and wandering and crying fucked up and such a fool, such a fool so damned my scalding hell heated the slippery corners of my eyes. / He was the funniest fucker I have ever met. / Such waste. / S A D S I C K N E S S. / Fevers of blame and despair. Spreading between us like Andrews’ beautiful young body across the cement. / I miss him still. No note. His mother’s shuddering sobs shall not leave my memory and spilled in echoes over my ruin as I catalysed the manufacture of my own disgust. / Got so used to casualty wards where I would wake up (“seemed euphoric” I read on the chart) with stitches and no idea how I had got there who had taken me. Hit on the nurses, once one reciprocated I couldn’t fucking believe it. More psyche wards again and again I always liked the schizophrenics they were, at least, as mad as me. / Locked wards psychotics everywhere screaming at night. The half hour or hour or whatever the fuck it was we were allowed to wander around outside our cells, the men all of them except me, every one, ALL hung on the wire fence, heads at odd angles staring out, fingers through the chicken wire. Razor wire at the top. / I remember I had a chance to get out and go to the open wards an interview with three guys running the place. I looked forward to it for a week or something I don‘t know the haze too thick, chemical dust deep – I do remember the longing it I thought my articulation would save me again. I hoped and hoped waited got visited by three girls had tried to destroy with the holes in my heart, cutting arcing guilt betrayer that I was, liar, storm of pain my touch and words a plague of emotion. / They didn’t come back I think the number of doors with locks scared them though they all tended to think it was PRETTY FUCKING ROMANTIC. / I was tanked on some hardcore drugs I have no idea what. Varieties of thorazine the zine family yeah, a chemical lobotomy the pain whirling inside, a thrown running power saw spraying meat but no expression nothing connecting, shut out of my own body. / Got to the meeting and I opened my mouth in front of these psychiatrists and I could not SPEAK. Too wasted oh wasted yes but not in the fun way that’s for sure. / I could SHAKE though and I could drool cuz I couldn’t get my facial muscles under any sort of control. So I stayed there for another week or more weeks who the fuck knows? / Hated being there so I longed for squalour ethanol sex attention. Filled instead with drugs and shakes and sobriety. Polluted with chemicals worse oh fucking worse oh yes than my own toxic liquid destruction. / I DARE YOU TO FIX ME! / They had this thing where some poor lost mad bastard would stand up and say the THOUGHT FOR THE DAY after our group meetings with people rocking in the corners. They were all so fucked up most of them could barely speak some not at all others never shut up but they only spoke to people who were not there. I stood up and quoted Shakespeare for ten minutes. Midsummer night’s dream I think I thought it was nice and cheery for everyone. / “Lovers and madmen have such seething brains such shaping fantasies that apprehend far more than cool reason ever comprehends. / One sees more devils than vast hells can hold, that is the madman…” / Got out and stayed on the drugs like a good boy but kept drinking and kept cutting. All the fucking useless things did was excise my personality make me impotent make my hair fall out make me fat make me slow and make me HATE. Worst of it was I could not react act my speed acuity lust passion poisoned memory gone awareness gone focused to an angel point into pure hissing SHAME. That I was born in a fucking PARADISE of love and that I had flared brutally, violently bright. I knew history enough to understand that we live in a utopia of humanism; I knew enough LIFE to know that I had been born raised loved and somehow STILL WAS by the most beautiful minds hearts and hands. / Mother. Father. Sister. Every kindness I had repaid with failure. I deserved every torture I could devise to inflict for betraying them so deep and hard, those who threw everything anything they could find to save me into the pyre of my fucking excuse for a life. / Shuffle along undead NOT LIFE PAIN but undead don’t fall and weep with acid logic with scalpel reason undeniable distress killing my father see his eyes watching me tear myself to pieces. Hooks of my own hurt see it in his shoulders slumped he has given up I hurt him so much he is dying ahhhhhHHH. Raised with passionate care, soft hands, sweet voices singing in the night care and care and care such a beautiful boy oh he is so beautiful the boy the betrayer the monster the liar the drunk. / Guilt an endless sun clawing every sense every thought and it was RIGHT it was TRUE the only thing I had ever done was break the bones in the hands that held me. Eat the life deserve this worse such a coward mouth red and sticky and still Life eater ALIVE I was still ALIVE why was I alive? i shall continue more posts tomorrow, serialised hm.
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Depression
by Andy73 -
Indian Ink on Illustration Board (c) REO 2007
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oil on canvas
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Depression isn’t a FAD / hug someone today
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this is from my new series “portraits of Hope”
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from the portraits of hope gouache pastel ink pencil and scratching
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11/2/09 – 994 views Possibly one of my best photos ever. This teddy bear has been keeping my goat, Oreo, company since his other goat friend Dot passed away. But this picture has sparked many people into wondering why the teddy bear is so sad, why he is sitting on a bucket next to a fence. Create your own story! This could be a good “I Miss You” card or “Sympathy” card. Taken at my home in PA. Panasonic Lumix TZ-3
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Model: Tori Bellentina / MUA: Phoebe Golld
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I was inspired by Starry night ….the first painting that I felt …not just loved …when I saw it …I felt i could understand it …and i scribbled these lines down as i painted As she dreams And I will be the one to steal the nightmares away / As you dream / I will ravenously ….glutinously eat at all the spoiled memories and chaos / Remembered and forgotten / I will eat with the appetite of a million hungry men / Until my stomach / And heart aches / Like yours has all these years / As you dream love / And I will kiss you / No not like the others / I will place my mouth over yours / And breathe in the ugly heaviness / Your lunatic laugh / Your screams of agony / Mercy ! / mercy please / They are all now mine to own / Because I adore you …and want you to dream / I will lay with you in my arms you as quiet as whisper / I as your shadow / I will take your bed of destitute and destruction / Filling my viens with your plague / Keeping me awake / Keeping me only half alive and half sane / Just for you. / To dream of what I always believed you were. / And I now own the thoughts of suicide / The padded walls covered in piss and cum / The fear of breaking / Of falling / The fear…. always fear in your eyes / Shhhhhhh now baby / We won’t ever speak of this / It is mine / You sleep with dreams love / And when you ask me / Why I never sleep / Why I am so distant / It is because / I hold this for you / This secret / That I can’t ever let you have back / We know what it did to you / I can’t see you like that anymore / I am not that cruel / That I love you so much that I would own your hate / More so than your love / So you can always dream / As I lay awake knowing / I gave you the peace you always needed / But could never ask for.
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“Depressed” was featured in the groups / Woman Appreciation / The Group of Death / Unconventional Artistry / The Voyage Of The Surrealists and / Solo Exhibition 326 views, 14 favoritings (11 November 2009) Ink drawing from December 1977 … AFTER a suicide attempt. / Originally drawn on a white paper… somehow got really brownish on my parents’ livingroom wall, I think the only drawing of mine which suffered this misfortune. Still, Some people on RB seem to like such effect ;-) /
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It’s not a beach in the Bahamas. It’s not the top of Mount Everest. It’s not a view of the beautiful land I call home. It’s a small gravelled garden where I stood and felt happy with the world. It matters not to the general viewer the where or why, it just was! It’s where I want to be, not for the garden, the walls or the door, but for how I felt at the time and the reason I felt that way, but the door beckons and will call me away to my responsibilities. At times, I wish I could be more selfish!
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as i watched the evil get its way…..the ones who sin,take and break move foward i wondered why I wasn’t being helped …why life comes so easily to some people …if they knew how hard life could be would they step a little more carfully whith what they had? I remember one person saying to me april God doesn’t always answer yes…and i though what an asshole …so easy to say when your life has been sugar coated…..so i thought maybe this God needs a little help hearing ….I was so full on anger nothing else could be felt this was my turning point…..I can’t expect to be envous of what another life is i have to take all that i was given ,the hurt the pain and even the joy and let it live… my two things in life i hold constant as I live …don’t juge somone by how they look that means nothing …...and don’t judge to someone unless you know the whole truth and story…and even then there is always grey.
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...depression comes crawling back, sucking the life out from within, and tearing your world apart from without…
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Shamanic angel martyr hiding face with stigmata on the hands. Photo base illustration.
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Model – Desirae No matter what is happening in our lives, we always have the opportunity to make a conscious decision about what happens to us next. The defining moments in my life can be counted on my fingers… finishing school… choosing my career path… not giving up on getting the love of my life to say ‘yes’... the birth of each of my beautiful children… each moment is a precious blip in my time line that I am grateful for experiencing. I sometime wonder what would have happened if I chose not to make the decisions in my life I have and while I’m certainly not immune to making the occasional bad decision I certainly can’t complain… I’m living the life I’ve chosen for myself and that’s all I can ask for. I have always wanted to do ‘something’ with this image of Desirae but at the time of taking it my skills simply didn’t match the final image in my head… when I pressed the button on my camera this is pretty close to what I saw and I’m happy to settle for that… for the moment anyway.
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Taken at sunrise at the Perry Sand Hill in Wenthworth NSW
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i hate being broken by you, you said forever, you said we would conquer the world together. what happened? when did i turn black, turn transparent, fall out your picture? why am i now behind you, never in your view, out of site? was i not good enough, is that why you replaced me? well im tired, tired of trying, smiling, for you… release me of my burden please for i am tired… This new bolt of lightning you call your friend won’t last, for lightning flashes once, never to hit the same place, they are never contained, never lasting and so... / “I’m afraid sometimes / you’ll play lonely games too, / games you can’t win / because you’ll play against you” Dr Suess Featured In Young Enthusiasts
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