always-keep-goghing-blog

[always-keep-goghing-blog]

[always-keep-goghing-blog]

I can’t talk about how much I probably need admitted to some kind of psychiatric hold right now because I have too many people relying on me to keep it together. I can’t express it at all. I don’t have time to deal with it. I just have to keep going, as much as I don’t want to. It’s always at my own expense that I march on for others.

[always-keep-goghing-blog]

Self-Portrait, 1910, Pierre-Auguste Renoir

https://www.wikiart.org/en/pierre-auguste-renoir/self-portrait-1910

[always-keep-goghing-blog]

Coloring

The ginger cat watched, alert and curious, while the tiny girl stooped over the vinyl table. The girl had found some scratch paper. It probably belonged to her father. She had found a red ballpoint pen, too. Her diaper bulged, her socks were sagging, and she stooped over the table, red pen in hand, furiously scribbling shapes and lines on the paper.

>

Nothing mattered but the circles, the loops, the dots. Nothing mattered but that scratch, that pull on the paper. Nothing mattered because she was making something new. Her lips, sticky and wet from the juice her mother had given her, stretched wide in a grin. Her eyes shone in wonder.

>

There would never be anything as good as this.

>

That ginger cat would be gone within two years. And the girl grew up. The red ballpoint pen would change to paintbrushes and charcoal and pastels. The scratch paper would become canvas and cold-pressed, 140lb watercolor paper. The grin would become scrunched up lips, pursed in concentration, paired with a furrowed brow, betraying the turmoil within.

>

The girl would be creating something new, something that hid her pain. Something that would erase the decades of mistakes, of missteps, of tragedy and disappointment, of abuse, of cruelty, of misplaced devotion to those that claimed to love her, something that erased her life and how pathetic and unimpressive it had come to be.

>

The girl’s hand cramped. She sat back, rubbing it idly, and glanced up; she saw the wrinkled photograph of the tiny child stooped over the table, with the curious ginger cat. With her lips now tight and drawn, eyes now tired, she considered the grin on the small girl’s face, the bright enthusiasm.

>

How had it come to this?

[always-keep-goghing-blog]

I am so so sorry.

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When I was five I didn’t think my life would look like this 30 years later.

[always-keep-goghing-blog]

Awww yeeeees

all credit 2 original owner☕️☕️

If ur here you may as well follow me👀👀

[always-keep-goghing-blog]

winks with my third eye

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A R T

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Sorry not sorry

Hey if you’re a Christian and you

Actively Shit on people for their:

likes

love interests

hobbies

religion

choices

or anything that doesn’t involve you

YOU AREN’T A FUCKING CHRISTIAN.

If you are a Christian and you:

Use fear tactic to get people to believe you and your God(you’re going to be tortured in hell for all of eternity if you do this this and this)

Tell people who don’t follow your religion that they are sinning when you don’t even follow the book to a T

Belittle people who aren’t comfortable with your religion

YOU AREN’T A FUCKING CHRISTIAN

YOUR MOTHER FUCKING FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD CHRISTIAN TURNED PAGAN WHO IS MOTHER FUCKING HAPPY WITH HER LIFE BUT VERY PISSED PEOPLE CAN’T LEAVE PEOPLE ALONE

[always-keep-goghing-blog]

Them: wouldn’t it be so cool if witches were actually real?

Me, excitedly dusting off my cauldron: oh boy do I have some news for you

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I love meeting a fellow sister or brother in the wild.

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circles.

And on and on

And on

It goes

Turning, unending, into the void

This life

The turning

The going

The struggle

And on and on

And on

It goes.

[always-keep-goghing-blog]

Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890) View of Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer June 1888

Oil on canvas 64.2 x 53 cm

Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo