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@lecinda
So lately I have been thinking… How many other versions of the truth will I settle for before I decide on my own? How many bridges will I build just to watch them burn, so I can watch them all from a distance, too far away to be hit - too far away to be touched?
How much time will I spend holding back while they build walls, hoping to contain my Madness (as they would call it) or my Genius (as I would call it)?
"You want Freedom. What is holding you back? You Are Water."
“Don’t chase people. Be yourself, do your own thing, and love people. The right people - the ones who really belong in your life - will come to you, and stay.”
— Unknown
“Loyalty isn’t grey. It’s black and white. You’re either loyal completely, or not loyal at all. And people have to understand this. You can’t be loyal only when it serves you.”
— Sharnay
“I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough..”
— Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook
“Sometimes you have to act like you don’t care, even when you do.”
— Unknown
please let this be the year where tears do not extinguish my candles
“I don’t want to be a sweetheart. I want to be the fucking love of your life.”
— Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
— Nizar Qabbani
— fatima aamer bilal, from being unwanted is a language
Will I finally write myself Happy?
I've been trying to write something for a while now. But the pages remain empty and nothing's coming out. No ink from my pen, no blood from my fingertips, no cliches from my heart. But, as unfortunate as it might be, I can feel my breath against the window glass.
Like an unwelcome guest, one you cannot do anything about. It's not like I want to die right now. But, how can I breathe in and out when words are refusing to leave my lungs? I like words more than I like air.
I need words more than I need Air.
And I know it's not romantic, But Tragic. And it scares me sometimes too. I can Imagine it so vividly, death on my doorsteps. And maybe, just maybe It will ask what my last wish is only for me to answer without any hesitation;
"Let me write once again. One last prose in exchange for my last breath."
And maybe that's when I'll finally write myself Happy?
Oh God, will I finally write myself Happy?
Warsan Shire, from "For Women Who Are Difficult to Love"
A death comes to me in letting you go and all I can do is tell myself there’s nothing to do now but grieve.
How long have you known that I wasn't what you had wanted?
