Paradox Of Words

Hello! I post about 3 AM thoughts and core heartbreak Write up on here. I love journalling and speaking my mind out with words. I am a huge music listener. I am into art, designing and fashion

[silentparadoxblog]

healthy relationship....

A happy relationship is not just about happy moments. It’s not just date nights, long night drives, staying on calls for hours talking nonsense, spending nights together, or having deep conversations.

It’s also about arguments, misunderstandings, fights, and getting irritated with each other — but never leaving each other.

Not all happy moments show that a relationship is healthy the difficult moments show how deeply two people care for each other.

They fight, they argue, they get angry, and sometimes say hurtful words, but at the end of the day, they still show up for each other.

It’s not toxic to argue, because it simply shows that they are human. Just two people growing together and finding ways to build a life as one.

Actions speak louder than words, and that goes for feelings too.

[silentparadoxblog]

growing up

Growing up, I was that type of child who would be called a spoiled brat the one who got everything she wanted whenever she felt like it. Maybe my parents told me the truth when they said I was literally the princess of the house.

My friends would always tell me, “Oh wow, you're lucky you got that,” or they would always compliment my new dress while they wore old ones. I never realized that I was actually brought up in a privileged household… until I lost it all.

One mistake made my entire family fall apart, and now my dad can barely pay the house rent. I am still grateful that I am doing what I wanted to do, but at what cost?

I barely have money to get through my day. I can’t go out like my other friends do, and I am so scared to ask my dad for anything because it’s embarrassing when people around me hear that my dad doesn’t have money.

I skip meals to save money. I don’t get new clothes or eat my favorite food because I literally don’t have anything to give.

It feels really shitty when all your friends do whatever they want without asking or thinking twice, and I always have to come up with an excuse because I don’t have anything to give.

I feel alone, lost, and so fucking confused. I feel guilty when I ask for new things. I feel shitty when I eat good food. I feel pathetic when I ask for something I desire.

Now, when I look around, I feel like I don’t belong anywhere… and maybe I never will.

[silentparadoxblog]

My mom ♡

I realized something today. Maybe the part of me that gives comes from my mom. All my life, I have seen this woman give to other people without asking anything in return.

And when they say they are happy or show signs of happiness, her face lights up, like that’s the reward she gets for being a giver.

It reminds me of the time when my mom used to learn how to cook new things just because I asked her to make them for me. Even though she failed, she never gave up. She tried again and again just to make sure I had it. And once she saw how happy I was, she smiled and that smile was one of the most genuine ones I have ever seen.

It’s like all she has worked hard for in her life is to see her daughter smile. And I keep that part of me safe.

I ended up growing into a giver, just like my mom finding happiness in other people’s happiness, or being a reason for them to have a reason to smile.

and the is one of the lessons my mother has taught me

[silentparadoxblog]

Fear of loosing you

Today, for the very first time, I felt a fear.

The fear of what it feels like to lose someone you’ve spent such a long time loving.

All the days and nights you spent convincing yourself that this one is worth it and it won’t end up like the last .

How much effort and willpower it takes to move forward in life by allowing yourself to accept loss, just to feel it again.

At that moment, you just feel numb, like the whole world just stopped. Your ears start ringing, your stomach drops, and your heart feels like it’s about to jump out of your chest. Your body starts to shake in fear and anxiety.

In my head, words like: why is this happening again? Why did I mess up again? Is it me or something I did? Did I do something wrong? Did I say something wrong?

What am I going to do now? How will I accept it again? How can I be okay after this? What am I going to tell others? What am I going to tell myself?

[silentparadoxblog]

AGAIN?

Sometimes, when I look at these scars fading, I wonder,

 what if I do it again?

 What if I bleed again?

How would it make me feel

would it make me feel better?

Would it make the world feel less pathetic?

Would it make me feel alive? And then I think about all those faces when I tell them I relapsed.

What would happen?

Would they comfort me?

Would they leave me?

Would they be disappointed but just accept it and move on? It’s a bittersweet feeling knowing you left something that once gave you comfort and for the whole world it was just another way to of getting attention

[silentparadoxblog]

Peoples minds

People are meant lie to you to keep you happy because they don't want that burden when you're not okay

[silentparadoxblog]

The Untold truth

People say that once bad things happen, sometime later, you’ll find yourself living a life you never imagined you could.

Just like love the old one destroys you, hurts you to the point where you think you can’t recover.But once you accept the pain, the same love you once gave to someone will come back to you.

And this time, you’ll know how it feels to be loved the same way you love

[silentparadoxblog]

A room of chaos

When I was young, I used to hate closed rooms. I was afraid of being surrounded by four walls with just myself inside. I believed that if I stayed in a closed room, something foreign would come and attack me, kill me from the inside, and no one would ever know. I always kept my door open, comforted by the thought that there was someone outside, waiting for me.

But as I grew older, those four walls became my home. They felt like they protected me from whatever was waiting outside. A closed door began to mean safety. The very place I once feared became the place where I could finally be myself, unafraid.

What I once believed would kill me from inside these four walls became my source of comfort and protection. And suddenly, I was no longer afraid of what was inside the room, but of what waited for me outside, what could burn me.