A couple of days ago I stumbled upon William Fitzsimmons, a singer-songwriter from Jacksonville, Illinois.
On some website I read an article where he was considered “equal parts songwriter and psychotherapist”…which sounds absolutely legit to me 🙂
To be honest…this song kinda caught me off guard…considering my bad experiences involving car accidents and loved ones, this made me cry…and nevertheless, it also made me think of all the good times we had together.
A strange thing, that only music can do 🙂
I’m not the asshole you think I am. But at the moment, I can’t help you with all the problems you apparently have to deal with…it’s on you. Sry :-*
Ok, I admit it…I’ve been a creepy bitch recently. I kind of freaked out. It was as if a certain stalker weirdness had grabbed me by my flesh tunnels…
And guess what? I’m not sorry…not.one.bit.
“Depression, when it’s clinical, is not a metaphor. It runs in families, and it’s known to respond to medication and to counseling.
However truly you believe there’s a sickness to existence that can never be cured, if you’re depressed you will sooner or later surrender and say:
I just don’t want to feel bad anymore.
The shift from depression realism to tragic realism, from being immobilized by darkness to being sustained by it, thus strangely seems to require believing in the possibility of a cure…”