Melancholy - Tumblr Posts
We are not, nor should we be, immutable.
All things change,
The seasons as the earth spins round the sun,
The wind as air heats and cools,
The symphony of sounds as day turns to night.
We are no different,
We can and should change,
And yet we rail against it.
We hold this notion that must alway know who we are and thus must never change,
Yet we still know the earth as the seasons change,
We still know the air as the winds change,
We still know the songs of day and night no matter how they change.
To know yourself does not mean you cannot change,
But simply that you must accept change knowing that regardless it is still you.
listening to hozier, looking at a single star in the sky through my window.
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered— Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said “Nevermore.” - Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven #life #raven #edgarallanpoe #poem #story #melancholy #crow #wire #3dillustration #c4d #cinema4d #artistsoninstagram #street #end #sunset #silentsage (at Kolkata city of joy) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ca_nV6EP0lQ/?utm_medium=tumblr
Meloncholy 🥲🫠 🍉 #melancholy #joke #melon #3dillustration #c4d #illustration #silentsage (at Watermelon) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnO_59iyghc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
look what i painted. i called it solitude
(and this is how it looked at the beginning):
i really like to compare the finished piece to the idea i had in mind when started painting. it got much darker with cooler shades, but it still feels comfortable and hugging to me
just messing around in free drawing apps
Better days.
”match my freak” match my melancholy. be nostalgic about a past you weren’t even that happy in. find something to be haunted about throughout every second of your day
I've just created a merry little playlist called "Raw, dark, organic folk." If you feel like indulging in the mysterious joy of wallowing in misery and apathetic melancholy then this is the playlist for you. Happy listening.
I just found this quiz and it’s, phenomenal
Instagram didn't wanna post the proper size so I hope Tumblr let's me. Atleast JI know how too tag stuff here properly too (just in case they start working again.)
It was a rainy Sunday when I met her
The woman with the Marilyn Monroe smile
She was ethereal and from another world
Ever so often I’d be blessed by her smile
When I first saw her, faith came to me
If she was real there must be some heaven
As she sipped her coffee she stared out the window
Her brownie remained untouched across her
A year passed before I saw Marilyn weep
With no hesitation I strode to her and offered her comfort
She looked at me dazed yet magical
After that we sat together
An untouched brownie forever between us
I never asked her name and she never asked for mine
That was our one rule, we never spoke about ourselves
Ten years pass and I know Marilyn
She is still the etheral goddess I first saw
But now I see the fractures she hides
Years have passed and we do not speak anymore
When I see her I smile and she beams back
20 years gone and I’m still enchanted by her
The woman with the Marilyn smile
One day I sit in our cafe alone
Instead of an untouched brownie, a newspaper lays before me
I glance at the front page and my heart stops
I could recognise her smile anywhere
At her funeral I see how little they know her
They only speak of her happiness
Her melancholy aura forgotten
I stand by her grave and weep
It is not surprising
Or at least it shouldn’t be
The woman had the Monroe smile
How could she not be tragic?
•❃°•°❀°•°❃•
I was scrolling through pintrest today when I saw this picture below and got inspired.
So I hope you enjoyed my first tumblr post lol
Death of a Soulmate
Down her cheeks, the tears fell;
She hugged herself, at the midnight spell
The blanket wound around her, tangled up like a thread;
She clutched her chest tightly, curled forlornly in her bed
Yet she couldn’t fathom why, she found herself crying;
Someplace, somewhere the other half of her heart was dying.
don't know what to feel for guys
love? no? what, WHAT?
Poussière.
25-04-2015
Il y a quelque chose de magique... une petite quantité de lumière ou de poussière d’étoiles qui tourne autour de moi. Le souvenir de la présence et le manque sur l’instant. On ne choisit pas d’où l’on vient, on choisit ce que l’on devient. Et si je souhaite ce que je ne peux être ?
Je suis le passé que je traîne, un peu comme des souvenirs qui tirent mon esprit en arrière.
Music is powerful because it hurts. It actually, very physically hurts. It feels like a thick balloon is inflating behind your chest and it's spreading to your stomach and arms and fingers and you want to curl into yourself as if that will stop it from growing but it continues on. The nostalgia will only ever be nostalgia. The weekly visits with a friend are now barely even a text every few months. The fandom you dedicated your life to is barely even a passing thought anymore. The ideas that ran through your head now gather dust as a forgotten word document. Life is better, sure, but life used to have them. Why couldn't life be better and still keep them?
This would have never happened if you hadn’t listened to that music. But oh how beautiful those memories are, and there's a smile on your face despite the balloon threatening to pop if you listen a moment longer.