#sad posts

[aftabhk5]

So one day I was coming back home after early morning walk. On my way back, I saw this man holding a monkey which was roped. It made me upset. I took this picture secretly as I'm shy in public.

Now let me tell you what's wrong here. The monkey is NOT THE PET here!! The man has SLAVED this monkey!! YES. Some people here catch young animals (sometimes snakes too), abuse them & train them to do whatever they want from them and then they use them to earn MONEY! People like this man, force these animals to dance in front of people who pay. Or they simply go begging home to home & ask for money or whatever.

The most harshest thing? IT IS COMPLETELY NORMAL!! Yes people have normalised this thing (i.e abusing animals & using them for earning money). There are no restrictions neither anyone stops it. Seeing such innocent animals getting abused like this & not being able to do anything – I'm so ashamed of myself. 😢💔

P.S : They don't even give good quality food to monkeys..

(sorry for my basic English and any mistakes I made.. it's not my primary language).

[adimouze]

thought i was over it. im not im not im not im not it will always be fucking september and i will always be sad

[fantomey]

our most beloved smoking bench blew into the creek

[wachiborder]

Hay gestos que llegan disfrazados de inocencia, como si fueran viento suave… pero uno reconoce cuando en realidad traen olor a incendio viejo.

No hacen estruendo, se cuelan de costado, como si quisieran ensayar presencia sin asumir el peso de las consecuencias.

Y ahí es cuando me pregunto qué pretende esa mano que vuelve a mover piezas que ya había dejado caer por su propio juego.

Porque hay señales que no aparecen para construir nada, sino para probar si todavía queda alguna puerta mal cerrada.

Son como esas luces que se prenden solas en un pasillo vacío: no iluminan el camino, solo intentan llamar atención.

Y la verdad es que ya no me conmueve el brillo que aparece cuando conviene; me inquieta más la intención de reactivar historias que se rompieron por decisiones que no tomé yo.

Yo cambié.

Llevo dos meses limpiando espacios, sosteniéndome a mí mismo sin excusas y sin muletas afectivas.

Y desde esta claridad, ciertas aproximaciones me resultan más ruido que gesto: ecos que pretenden sonar como cuidado cuando fueron parte del derrumbe.

No sé si es nostalgia, control, costumbre o simple curiosidad, pero no voy a ser yo quien interprete señales ambiguas que solo buscan ver si sigo respirando desde el mismo lugar.

No estoy hablando desde la herida, sino desde la lucidez que da haber tocado fondo sin soltar mi propio nombre.

Estoy en ese punto en que la indignación es brújula: no para pelear, sino para no permitir que me muevan un milímetro del camino que me costó reconstruir.

Y aunque ciertos destellos del pasado insistan en aparecer, no voy a apagar mi proceso para quedarme mirando sombras conocidas.

Que cada quien cargue con sus elecciones.

Yo elijo avanzar sin volver a traducir gestos que no vienen con palabra, intención ni presencia real.

[deardiary17]

I'm ill again. And once again, it's my throat. While I've been having lots of flare-ups in the past two years, I've never had a sore throat as bad as the one I have currently. It's like my throat is super swollen and on fire, and even a spray with an anaesthetic doesn't help. I'm feeling so down about it, I've just recovered from April antibiotics and what was after them...also, medications are so expensive, and my budget is super incredibly tight (again, like never before).

[atlanticluna]

I will never be this version of myself again, so let me slow down and enjoy being with her.

Let me love the moments in which all I want is to destroy myself. Let me appreciate the strength it takes to keep myself together. Let me cry myself to sleep one more time, not because of misery, but for the moments I missed while basking in the shadows of my own lament.

Let me finally allow someone to reach me, to appreciate me, to touch me, to love me; and let that person be me. For none have been as true to me as I, despite the scarcity of gratitude towards myself.

[one-day-i-will-figure-it-out]

I have so much sadness in me

And I don’t want it

But isn’t it exactly how other people are with me?

Rejected time and time again

Never finding home

Or a friend who wants you to stay

So how can I tell it to leave?

When I know how much it hurts

So I’ll welcome the sadness

The tears and the grief

The loneliness that nobody wants to feel

I welcome it and say that you can stay

And when you have nowhere to go

You can always come here

And maybe we’ll both find some comfort

In being together