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@romiiswords
I love your blog ā„ keep writing you're doing well. Plus can you give me your instagram I want to follow u if u don't mind . Much love !ā”
Awā thank you so much dear anon <3 and hereās a link to my insta:
https://www.instagram.com/ro.m.ii/?hl=fr
Sometimes, the pain lessens Like it almost disappears. I start interacting in conversations, Murmuring songs in the shower, Laughing at jokes And actually feel it. Then there are days When Iām just numb. Everything around me becomes Soundless and motionless I hardly notice my setting. Surprisingly, my thoughts slow down Like theyāre not even there. But there are also days When the pain is raging. I feel all sorts of emotions at once And the voices inside my head Are all awaken. Itās like the war is declared on me And I have no army, So I just wait for the cycle to move Where I become numb, Then I turn to normal again.
I started reading when I was around 16 years old and it was the time when I started to question who I really am, what Iām like and what I want. So reading a book for the first time was an enjoyable new experiment that made me want to do it again and more. When reading became a regular hobby, I realized that whatever genre of books I read, they always add to my overall knowledge which shapes my way of thinking and the different genres that exist is what made me love reading even more, because it feels like a big world with a variety of tiny worlds inside it. It has also helped me build my critical thinking and reflect on what I read which led me to find my own voice and form my proper opinions. When certain topics are brought up in conversations, I feel comfortable expressing my thoughts even if the majority of people have a contrasted opinion to mine. It has also made me become an open minded person. I started to consider other peopleās ideas and opinions, and if I find them enough convincing, Iām not afraid to adopt them. Reading has also made me grow a passion towards books, words, literature in general and arts. Actually if it wasnāt for reading, I wouldnāt have discovered that Iām an aesthete. Besides helping me shape my personality, reading gave me a sense of company. I donāt feel strange or alone either due to what Iām reading or just the fact that Iām reading. Therefore, Iām really grateful that reading has made me discover an essential part of my personality and who I am.
Feeling the pain is hard and hiding it is harder.
my writings (via romiiswords)
When you donāt wear your heart on your sleeves, people take your feelings for granted. They could mock you, neglect you and never worry about you. They assume that you wonāt feel bad towards what they do as if your sorrow or disappointments are not worth carrying. They possibly think you donāt do feelings, and if you show any upset, they say that youāre being too sensitive, like there is a measurement of feelings that youāre not allowed to exceed. They could realize how bad they treat you, but they rather hide it than admit it and you donāt have the guts to make them. So you pretend like nothing happened and you bury those emotions deep down inside you to build with them more nightmares that make you stay awake questioning if youāll ever be good enough.
I like to remind you Weāre not enemies, We were never two People hating each other. Yes, we fight most often, We argue, we yell, We say mean things And we end up hurting Each other. We donāt know how To be soft Rough is the only way for us To love. You donāt have that cute Jealousy, You stick me with knives When youāre jealous. And Iāve got a cold heart I donāt know how To warm you. You wish to lock me Inside you away From the world, Because youāre too scared To lose me, While I dream of exploring The world with you. I rebel against everything You ask me to stay away from, Then blame you for Your anger. But no matter how Many times We contradict each other, There is only one thing We agree on which is To love.
College.
I know Iāll make it out alive But I also know that Iād Go out half damaged And Iām not sure about the other half; It is similarly to a man coming out of war. Ā Now I wonāt complain about how Tired I am. I just want to know if itās worth it. Is it worth it to ban myself A nice breakfast every morning? Is it worth it to reduce my hours Of rest and sleep? Is it worth it to not have a social life And let a system controls all of my time? Ā I know I will be happy The day of my graduation, But would that happiness also last For sixteen / eighteen years long? Or will I find myself surrendering to Another system that again will Absorb all of my energy and time? And for the sake of what? Success? Does success only mean good grades, Decent job and a paycheck every month? I thought slavery was a long time abolished. Ā Education could have been fun, If only the delivery was not a self hater And ambitions sucker. If only the governance worked primarily To feed our brains. If only the voices that called for change Have been heard. Ā My life has been colonized; I had to prioritize grades over my mental health, Because āIām depressedā is not A valid justification to my numbered absences. I donāt blame anyone or anything for What happens to me, But thereās definitely an impact And I donāt like it! Ā If I quit, society would label me A failure. And my stupid pride doesnāt allow me To live with that. So I endure the torture, remain quiet And continue the road to fuzzy end Where I get a degree Iām not sure Iāll ever use it.
Weāre not saying What we really want. Weāre just pointing fingers And each one is blaming the other. Weāre counting our mistakes And building with them A barrier between us. Then wonder why Are we unreachable? Instead of growing soft And tearing each otherās clothes, Weāre becoming tougher And tearing each other apart. I donāt know where love hides At moments like this, When we most need it. I seek it in your eyes But I become blind by My stupid pride. I try to find it In the words we say, But all I hear are shouts. Inside me, I keep hoping That this wonāt be the end That you still love me As much as I do. But why canāt I get myself To say it out loud? Why donāt you say That you still want me And ask me to stay?
I guess that i wasted too much of my energy thinking about what to do, instead of doing it. It is not a matter of luck to just sit and wait for it. I should have worked harder and cared more.
my writings
I felt so much pain, until i got to the point where i felt nothing at all.
(via words-of-a-lost-soul)
Iām sad. Not the kind of sad That drags you down And makes your life seems useless. Itās the kind of sadness That can go away with a hug And be consumed by the hands of a lover. Iām sad in a way That wonāt write me a good poem. Iām sad in a way That will make me cry a little Then move on with my day. I guess that I just miss you And if I see you, touch you Iāll be okay.
I fell down the hole I did not cry for help I did not think of my way back up. I just ranted: āwhy the hell was there a hole?ā I complained about the hole on and on Then I started to live the submission And breathe the boredom too. Sleep, wake up, do it again Sleep, wake up, do it again⦠Until I made of the hole a comfort zone. But the emptiness started to slip through my heart, And I realized how stupid I was For easily accepting being down there Without a single fight to take. The hole has always been there And I was meant to fall. Everybodyās path has a hole or two Or three and even more. Because life is all ups and downs And if we choose to stay down, Life stops there too.
You were a total stranger I saw on the bus, one morning. But my heart had already known you, And my mind started making Imaginary scenarios of you holding my hand. You didnāt see me back then, But your heart had already fallen for me. Because few days later, We were sitting next to each other, You asking my name and me blushing shyly Cause I knew it was you; My destined love.
It was so foolish of me not to see The rotten soul inside your body. I must have been blind to trust you. Your innocent look and sugar-coated words Did nothing but deceive me. I donāt blame you though Because itās just the way some people are. Bad people.
I donāt want to be an empty soul that lives her life in the void. Iāve got to give my life a purpose and meaning. And when i die, i wish i would leave behind me beautiful words and great stories that would touch people in their hearts.
my writings (via words-of-a-lost-soul)