likegoldrollingthroughmyveins

Mostly reblogs that lend insight into a man that used to have a golden arm.
filthywhoress:

bestfriends :(

Living this right now….tough stuff man.

filthywhoress:

bestfriends :(

Living this right now….tough stuff man.

!!!!!keepcalmbabe:

holy shit goosebumps down my spine..

fucking crazy! my girlfriend and her daughter and friend watched this saturday night! i havent seen it in years!!!!!

!!!!!keepcalmbabe:

holy shit goosebumps down my spine..

fucking crazy! my girlfriend and her daughter and friend watched this saturday night! i havent seen it in years!!!!!

(Source: lesyeuxdelalunerose, via itsrogue)

likegoldrollingthroughmyveins: Thoughts about suicide...

bufordtjustice:

I see a plethora of posts about suicide on here. Some days/nights it seems like that is the common theme for the day. So many of them center around the idea that “no one is here for me or wants to help me”. I sympathize. I have been there, more than once, for years at a time. Although this probably will get read by a grand total of zero people, I wanted to share something with all of the people out there that are feeling suicidal today, or most days, or all the time…I learned some things about myself in recovering from several things that were most unpleasant to look at. One, there ARE PLENTY of people out there who were there for me and willing to help me. The problem is that A. I was unwilling to open up to any of them and tell them the real truth. Trust issues and the peculiar desire to remain a martyr overruled my ability to do that for a long time. B. I refused to accept the help that was offered, AS it was offered. I wanted to dictate the terms. Sure, I wanted your help but I wanted to tell you how to help me, and if you weren’t willing to do it THAT way then in my mind you did not really want to help me. The problem there is that I really had no idea what I needed, no clue what was best for me. In hindsight it was largely due to my “brilliant life decisions” that had landed me there in the first place! C. My final insight was that recovering from suicide includes 2 things for most of us, 1. Medication. 2. Therapy. There is no magic pill to fix everything without me having to face myself and my life. Also, and this usually pisses on most EVERYONE’S parade, psychiatric medications that help with suicidal people generally fail their purpose when mixed with alcohol and other drugs. Wow. So not only did I have to listen to someone else and buy into the notion that they just MIGHT know more than I did, considering my life was total shit and everything I tried to do just made it worse, but I also had to quit slamming every mood altering chemical I could find in my mouth, arm, nose, etc. 

I realize that because I am much older than most of you all of this will quickly be disregarded as bullshit. However, if you REALLY go to sleep every night praying to die, and wake up every day pissed off as fuck at whatever God is or isn’t out there, then you might just be able to find a way out through some of my experience. I send messages to people all the time on here who claim to be actively suicidal. Want to know how many have replied to my messages? ZERO. Maybe they think I am some middle aged creeper. Maybe they don’t really want to die and they just want attention. Maybe their fear and mistrust keeps their willingness to reach out at bay like mine did. I guess I will never know. What I DO know is that 15yrs after my last attempt at suicide, I am happier than I ever thought it was possible for a person to be. In spite of losing my father to cancer, my wife to a car wreck, and more friends than I can count to drugs and suicide. Life is good. I do not know how I survived those years. When I feel like giving up and like nothing and no one out there gives a shit, I remember the way I somehow rose from the ashes with the help of a handful of people who cared enough about me to never give up. I am in love, happy, and haven’t had an active suicidal thought in years. Not even when my wife of ten years died suddenly in a carwreck. So, here is some hope. I love you all.

seemed like a good night to re-blog my own post since every other post seems to involve cutting scars and wanting to die…

(via itsrogue)

the love of my life

the love of my life

Painting of my left half sleeve tattoo by Erica at eye candy in New Orleans on Magazine Street. If you are interested in a print message me and I will get it hooked up.

Painting of my left half sleeve tattoo by Erica at eye candy in New Orleans on Magazine Street. If you are interested in a print message me and I will get it hooked up.

Thoughts about suicide…

I see a plethora of posts about suicide on here. Some days/nights it seems like that is the common theme for the day. So many of them center around the idea that “no one is here for me or wants to help me”. I sympathize. I have been there, more than once, for years at a time. Although this probably will get read by a grand total of zero people, I wanted to share something with all of the people out there that are feeling suicidal today, or most days, or all the time…I learned some things about myself in recovering from several things that were most unpleasant to look at. One, there ARE PLENTY of people out there who were there for me and willing to help me. The problem is that A. I was unwilling to open up to any of them and tell them the real truth. Trust issues and the peculiar desire to remain a martyr overruled my ability to do that for a long time. B. I refused to accept the help that was offered, AS it was offered. I wanted to dictate the terms. Sure, I wanted your help but I wanted to tell you how to help me, and if you weren’t willing to do it THAT way then in my mind you did not really want to help me. The problem there is that I really had no idea what I needed, no clue what was best for me. In hindsight it was largely due to my “brilliant life decisions” that had landed me there in the first place! C. My final insight was that recovering from suicide includes 2 things for most of us, 1. Medication. 2. Therapy. There is no magic pill to fix everything without me having to face myself and my life. Also, and this usually pisses on most EVERYONE’S parade, psychiatric medications that help with suicidal people generally fail their purpose when mixed with alcohol and other drugs. Wow. So not only did I have to listen to someone else and buy into the notion that they just MIGHT know more than I did, considering my life was total shit and everything I tried to do just made it worse, but I also had to quit slamming every mood altering chemical I could find in my mouth, arm, nose, etc. 

I realize that because I am much older than most of you all of this will quickly be disregarded as bullshit. However, if you REALLY go to sleep every night praying to die, and wake up every day pissed off as fuck at whatever God is or isn’t out there, then you might just be able to find a way out through some of my experience. I send messages to people all the time on here who claim to be actively suicidal. Want to know how many have replied to my messages? ZERO. Maybe they think I am some middle aged creeper. Maybe they don’t really want to die and they just want attention. Maybe their fear and mistrust keeps their willingness to reach out at bay like mine did. I guess I will never know. What I DO know is that 15yrs after my last attempt at suicide, I am happier than I ever thought it was possible for a person to be. In spite of losing my father to cancer, my wife to a car wreck, and more friends than I can count to drugs and suicide. Life is good. I do not know how I survived those years. When I feel like giving up and like nothing and no one out there gives a shit, I remember the way I somehow rose from the ashes with the help of a handful of people who cared enough about me to never give up. I am in love, happy, and haven’t had an active suicidal thought in years. Not even when my wife of ten years died suddenly in a carwreck. So, here is some hope. I love you all.

I’m not a Tumblr famous. I love it when a red number appears above my inbox icon. If someone followed me, I smile and it makes me happy. When I lose a follower, I ask myself why. When someone hates me, only few people comfort me. When I make a text post, I seldom have notes for it. Almost all of my posts are reblogged from other users. When I hold an honesty hour, you can count with your fingers the people who ask. But despite the fact that I have not much follower count, I am proud of my blog. Why? Because the person who is reading this right now chose to follow me. :) I love you followers.

(Source: w-intersonata, via d1scount)


The way the Tower fell was scary as fuck. Look,  it didn’t just break off, it crashed down as if it was a domino effect, floor by floor. There were people in that building. Take a moment out of your day and reblog this for the people who saved lives that day and for the poor souls who didn’t make it. 

The way the Tower fell was scary as fuck. Look,  it didn’t just break off, it crashed down as if it was a domino effect, floor by floor. There were people in that building. Take a moment out of your day and reblog this for the people who saved lives that day and for the poor souls who didn’t make it. 

(Source: ruoloc, via shelbyhartness)

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