humanity
Mental health is a fundamental right; the future of humanity depends on it.
The Optimistic Cynic
Take this story with a grain of salt, as a truth no one particularly cares about, as a story from the desk of a certified madman. I found this short transcript while rummaging through an estate sale, an old, crumpled, unsent letter to a soul unknown. Take it seriously, if you want. Enjoy.
By Mental Sweat5 years ago in Psyche
Fountain pens are still a thing
Fountain Pens Are Still A Thing By: The ADHD Accountant – Krid Welcome to our little community. We’re all around you; you may know one of us. You might even be on of us. Let me give you a quick tour of how I ended up down the rabbit hole; I’m no Alice but you may find a wonder land like I have. And you too may find Wonder Pens to be enabling…
By ADHD Accountant5 years ago in Psyche
Five Rules of Adventure. Top Story - March 2021.
01. “He was a bit of a closed book.” - Go to Page 2. ____________________________________ 02. As you rifle through your late father’s meager but neatly organized possessions up in the family attic, you come upon a little black notebook under a stack of old photo albums.
By Nikita Emtsov5 years ago in Psyche
Leap Fidei
He never feared death. From the moment Philip was 9 years old he'd stopped fearing death, no, what he feared most was never having lived. His toes dangled over the edged, the dirt was mixed with sediment rocks that dug into the soles of his feet, he barely felt it. He stood distracted by the crashing sound of the waves hitting the bottom of the cliff wall just 15 feet in front of him and stared blankly into the gaping hole beneath him. Complete darkness leaked from it almost licking the tips of his toes, he couldn't see past 2 feet down, eyeing its dirt walls.
By Kassandra Mans5 years ago in Psyche
Devil in the Details
It’s the not the kind of alley that’s seen much skipping. It’s the kind you pass through quickly - if you must at all - with eyes down. Willing yourself invisible, your peripherals on high alert. A street you don’t want to be alone in. Pungent smell of piss and smoke and stagnant, moldy water. Yet it’s skipping that Mack is most certainly doing. He can’t help himself. His feet carry him. He skips, glides, spins and jumps. At times he has to stop and theatrically yoink back up his oversized pants, as their frayed and greasy half-cuffs scrape the bitumen with an especially boisterous bounce. He’s meandering all over, yet he knows where he’s headed. Where else to go when one has Very Big News, but to the object of your heart’s desire. He rounds the corner. Her familiar, half-bored scowl elicits in him an involuntary grin somehow wider than his ears. She rolls her eyes as she sees him make his bee-line and makes to move to the far side of the stall. He has anticipated this move, and heads her off with a grin he didn’t think could get any wider.
By Rochelle Strongarm5 years ago in Psyche
The Hungry Void of Me
The day is cold. The sun is gleaming and the air is mellow around me, yet this day falls so cold. Perhaps it is me that is cold. I watch the dusty air caper around in the stream of sunlight that spills through the blinds. I find that I am aimlessly disconnected from everything. Lost stumbling somewhere far within myself. I am gasping for sweet air as I drift through the void of my mind that eats my dreams and lingers around my body like some putrid parasite. I am merely a shell of who I could be, a vessel for the indistinct emptiness that consumes my body. Emptiness becomes me. My eyes borrowed by my thoughts, like a prisoner they succumb to such blind power. My poor simple bones fall victim to the complex knot of thoughts that consumes me so. My limited perception of this life creates the perfect hellscape of such a blatant existence.
By Lilly Ashley5 years ago in Psyche
