humanity
Mental health is a fundamental right; the future of humanity depends on it.
A Souls Desire
I remember the day when 20,000 pieces of paper fell from the clouds with the grace of crisp fresh snow. Before then, the only type of magic I believed in came from a pen’s first glide across a new ivory sheet of paper. Yet there I sat with a Moleskine journal full of mistake-marked pages in my left hand and a fresh 100 dollar bill in my right. The sound of shuffling papers tantalized my ears as the hum of the city ceased to an awe-stricken buzz. As the world around me rubbed its eyes with disbelief, I realized I couldn’t tell who was lying: the sky or the state of my mind.
By Lauren Portee5 years ago in Psyche
Black=What?
When strange things happen to me in broad daylight– like noticing an exploded bracelet on the ground and (just like a fairy tale) I eagerly stoop to gather seed pearls scattered on the parking lot pavement, I can sense the wobbly dream world is close. And when later on the same walk, I find a small black notebook next to the abandoned tennis court on the way to the woods, there is again, this swelling of peculiar presence. Mind and body suddenly function as metaphor – I am a two-way mirror bridge. The outer world aligns so surprisingly and precisely with my internal narrative that it feels like the pleasure of rhyme followed all the way back to silence. Or the voice of a bell pulsing into inaudible vibration: here is a brief chance to notice the flavor of the void – vast, sparkling possibility! My own tongue is the permission slip, and it seems completely obvious my whole life has been a giant game of hide and seek. This is how I feel when I flip it open.
By Kathleen Ivanoff5 years ago in Psyche
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
