Bleed Royalty Exceed Exuberance @muhammadwaleednasir - Tumblr Blog

Wind blows every pieces of love we had, from dusty memories and untold words rumpled conversations and useless reasons. Shorter conversations, and unpick up phone calls no more goodnight, all we have is goodbye.

most-wonderful-almost (via wnq-writers)

serious

I wish people could just say how they feel like ‘Hey I really don’t like when you do that to me’ or ‘Hey I’m in love with you’ or ‘Hi I really miss you and I think about you all the time’ without sounding desperate. Why can’t everyone be painfully honest and just save people the trouble.

maybe because some people just can’t face and accept the truth (via misjudgments)

ramblingsofalittlebrunette-blog

The Other Side

Drowned in his sorrows, he laid there, numb. This was the second pack of cigarettes he had started to smoke today. Usually he kept it down to one pack, but today he was feeling exceptionally low. Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door. It was his mother calling him down for breakfast.

He ignored her. Thought, “What’s the point? I might as well die than being known as the kid who lost his father. All of the kids at school tease me about it. School is just another thing she thinks would make me keep my mind off of the incident.”

He couldn’t sleep most nights. He could hear his mother’s muffled cries at midnight. Her mother yelled, “I won’t let you skip school again! Come right down, Tripp.” He groaned. Went down in his cerulean blue hoodie he had been wearing for the last two days. He liked it. The only thing he had kept from this father’s stuff. Which smelled a lot like his father. He went outside without saying word, sat on the front porch, waiting for the bus. He arrived school at about 8:01 AM. He could feel the stares cutting his body in pieces. “Hey, there, stranger.” said Emmylou, smiling a bit. “Hi.” He said. “What is up with the grumpy tone?” She punched him playfully. He and Emmylou had been friends since kindergarten. She knew everything about Tripp. They didn’t have the kind of awkward friendship-waiting-to-be-converted-into-love. They had a different kind. The kind where you could feel comfortable around each other. “You still thinking about it?” She asked. “Yeah. Actually I have been an ass at home. To my mom and stuff.”

“I know. I know the feeling.” She brushed her arm against his. She held his hand tightly. “You can get through this, and you will.” Tripp had a lump in his throat. He could remember it all vividly. He was on this stupid study in Australia when he received his mother’s phone call. His mother’s voice was trembling. i could feel the silence on the other end. It was deafening. “Your father didn’t wake up today.”

He could still remember those words, loud and clear. He hadn’t visited his grave since the funeral. It was like he was angry with himself. For not being a good enough son. For not loving him enough “He was proud of you.” said Emmylou. “Don’t you remember the time when you won that Essay contest?” “He loved you, Tripp. He did.” He sat there with his hands over his eyes. He looked up. He pushed Emmy’s blond hair over her ear and said, “Would you do me a favour?” The scene shifted. “Hey, mom. Wanna take a walk?” He stopped near the graveyard. His mom stared at him. This was the first time he had stopped instead looking the other way and pretending like the place didn’t exist. “Come on in.” He said. Emmylou was already there. Standing over his father’s grave, with tulips in her hand. Those were his father’s favourite kind. She came over and hugged Tripp tightly. “You sure you wanna do this?” He took his mother’s hand and moved forward. He put the flowers on his grave and said, “I’m sorry, mom. And dad.” “I love you.”

Then, he woke up.

islamic-art-and-quotes

If Allah has written for you happiness, no one can steal that from you, and if He has written for your heart to break, then no-one can mend it but He, so always put your trust in Allah.

Aaidh ibn Abdullah al-Qarni

Originally found on: ma-fi-qalbi-gayrullaah

(via islamic-art-and-quotes)

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