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@mengejarmakna
•lovers blog•
Pas ga sengaja baca quote ini dari jaman drama kumbara dengan bojo
i notice that we human being are overly abusing the word sorry maaf ampun. Without really sincere about it.
Contohnya gue. Eh maaf ya lupa
Do i feel sorry about it? Hell effin no
Jadi
Menurut gue, kalau gue minta maaf dengan kata. 80 percent i actually dont give a fuck about it
And if i FELT SORRY AND CHANGED MY BEHAVIOR than im really sorry about it.
Hahahaha maaf
Random thought.
We live in a world that words become hollow and meaningless
Unless you prove it with action
As they said.
The best apology is a changed behavior
Oh how we took sorry for granted
It became inconsequential.
We sprout the word without any honest and sincere meaning.
What if i stab you with a knife and i said
Oh sorry.
If you dont like the idea.
Why you stab me in the back and sprout nonsense like sorry.
And recently i forget how to be happy.
I forget how to enjoy little things in life. Like a good music or strolling in the sun.
And i became so shallow.
I priced everything with money.
I measured happiness with things i can buy.
Because i forget how to be genuinely happy
“Life, he says, doesn’t have to be so bad all the time. We don’t have to be anxious about everything. We can just be. We can get up, anticipate that the day will probably have a few good moments and a few bad ones, and then just deal with it. Take it all in and deal as best we can.”
— John Corey Whaley
I would rather shiver in the rain with friends than stand in the sun with any other company.
“The year fledges. I grow older - we both do. We borrow a dog and pretend it’s ours, a family portrait mounted over the fireplace. The whole house to ourselves, a walk in the park, a regular TV show. We listen to love songs and hug. Aerosmith and Dusty Springfield make me tear up. I used to think these were corny, but now I feel like they’re for me.”
— romance grown old | ishani jasmin
you’re broken. take your time. cellophane tape can’t do anything for your shattered skin, so allow your wounds to breathe into the open air until they fade into scars. i know breathing feels like pushing a weight off of your heart, in and out, and it would be easier to stop breathing than bear this, but hold on. hold on, love. the whisper of your doubt was meant to prepare you, to make the loneliness easier to bear, and all along this finite path you found pieces of yourself. although this door is closing you made it through in time. your heart is home now. it will keep you company. // h.rae
“Every view of you is the scenic view.”
— Bruce Adler
“Sunshine at our feet, as the chill stays by our side. Is this not a win?”
— Daily Haiku on Love by Aishwarya Nair
““Stop searching so desperately for romantic love,” I say. “It’s not the only important thing in this world.” “It feels as if there is this empty space without it.” “You have the power to fill it. You take yourself on dates and walks, treat yourself to the best cuisines, see the most beautiful scenery, take wonderful photographs, and you get to be your own love. Romance is great, but finding yourself is even better. It’s just passionate.””
—
Stories I’ll tell one day #124 by Ming D. Liu
“I am forgotten birthdays and missed phone calls and I’m sorry, please forgive me, I am so fucking sorry. I am the spaces between sidewalks, and body parts, and people who get too close. Please don’t get too close. I am shards of glass, and broken people, and transparent tape struggling to put each piece back together. I am shattered mirrors, and muted screams, and silent cries under muffling fingers desperately trying to keep the gasps in.I am struggling to breathe, and please hold me, and don’t fucking touch me, just leave me. I am a mess, and too much work, and so easy to walk away from. Sometimes I wish I was someone I could walk away from.”
— I am a glowing Halo with a black shadow and sometimes all I can see is the dark.
“1. The last time you made the mistake of making a home out of a pair of arms and a soft smile, you learned the hard way that anything that moves, that can blame, that can cause ache does not deserve such an elevated status in your heart. Still, you are an anomaly, a wild thing hoping for a home. A sailor wishing to leave the ocean and return. 2. I still remember a day when your father had lifted you in his arms and told you that you are loved, more than you ever know. It was two days before the plane crash that took him. It was two days before I saw death dance in your broken eyes for the first time. I don’t think it ever stopped dancing there. 3. Yesterday, someone asked you, “who do you trust most in the world?” And you felt that your lips were sewn shut. Everybody you should love and trusts’ names felt rough and raw on your tongue like they were in a foreign language that you had become too ancient to learn. So instead you whispered your own name like a secret into the abyss and hoped no one saw the sadness that had crawled it’s way along with your name out of your mouth. 4. A summer ago, you asked me what it was like to not need a place to call home. I know you asked this from a place of trauma, that your trauma has convinced you it will all be okay once you find a home. But it is lying, because what you need up find is your healing. And I told you that wanderlust had etched itself so ornately into my bones that I had no choice but to travel till it had sated itself. You looked at me with envy, even as I thought of all the people who would love to make a home of your heartbeat. You however were looking for a certain kind of love that you would call your very own. A kind of love that would never abandon you the way everyone you have ever loved has. 5. Something about you glowed bigger and better than all the stars we gazed at in the night sky. And even then, even when you had everything, you longed for a human to belong in. But everytime you laid the foundations for something good, they came crashing and tumbling down on your head. Because your trauma is a perfectionist and no one could quite become what you needed and wanted at the same time. 6. I wish I had told you then what I told you in that very last letter before I left. That child, why did no one ever teach you that you cannot turn people into homes? People are rivers, ever changing, ever flowing. They will disappear with everything you put inside them. Still, that home you are hunting for does have a heartbeat. But it isn’t one locked in anyone else’s chest. Just look inside your own.”
— Nikita Gill, People Aren’t Homes