Thanksgiving a few years ago:

Julie and I cleaned out the shed in my backyard. We hung up Christmas lights, had a table and makeshift/half-broken chairs, a mirror, and hung up a poster Julie made.

I don't remember if it was Thanksgiving night or the night after, but we decided to have dinner in the shed. At the time my house was going through some remodeling and so getting in and out of the house and into the backyard was difficult, because steps hadn't been built yet. Anyway, Julie stayed in the shed while I went into the house to grab some food. I gathered a few packets of Gogurt, two glasses, and I think some orange juice.

Now, the task was to get out of the house safely with this food. Being the stubborn person that I am, I didn't want to make two trips so I bear-hugged all of these things and decided I would take a chance. See, the problem was that I placed a not-so-sturdy chair next to the house to step onto since we didn't have steps built.

So there I go, bear-hugging this shit and stepping onto this chair, and BAM! There I land on the wet grass. The fall was about 4 feet, but I landed with my ribs on bricks! Needless to say, I had the air knocked out of me. So there I am, rolling around on the wet grass, in the dark, covered in Gogurt and broken glass. Gasping for air, I crawl over to the shed and all I could get out was, "oooh oooh I can't breathe".

Guess Julie's reaction? She laughed her ass off.
Yup, I thought I was dying and my best friend was laughing at me.
Good times.

Egon Schiele
Single Houses
1915

“The simple fact is that if she and I choose to love each other, if we are attached to each other, which we have been for a long time for that matter, we are doing no harm which people have a right to reproach either one of us with. And in my eyes it is absurd that people should feel obliged to bother their heads about it.”

Vincent van Gogh
At this time, Vincent was 31 year old.

Letter to Theo van Gogh
Nuenen, November 1884

Vincent van Gogh
Water Mill at Gennep
1884

I do this thing where I think I'm real sick, but I won't go to the doctor to find out about it. 'Cus they make you stay real still in a real small space as they chart up your sides and put them on display. They'd see all of it, all of me. All of the good that wont come out of me and all the stupid lies I hide behind.

I think I'll go out and embarrass myself by getting drunk and falling down in the street. You say I choose sadness, that it never once has chosen me. Maybe You're right.

Rilo Kiley -All the Good that Won't Come Out