shewaslikeahurricane:

This just makes me really sad.

(via miralshokry)

(via thenocturnals)

Because every now and again, I look mostly at the details of a box and the way it chokes the memories inside, a bunch of scattered papers and wet tissues and ..sufferings and joys.I don’t know if it means anything at all, I don’t know if trying is getting me anywhere, I don’t know if anything makes any sense at all ..and I don’t know if I should know that much.When someones asks how much is too much, I want to jump out of my seat and tell them, too much is very little, very little when you put yourself first, very little when you cry your eyes out, very little when all the words you have rehearsed are nothing but the remaining thoughts of a big made up theory if it means shit at all.How does one pick up the right words to say when somethings are beyond feelings and words? When they are things that we don’t understand? How can we possibly explain something that’s beyond our brains and why bother explaing at all when no ones is daring enough to dig deep into the darkest of our insides.

I write of words, words that no one will ever be able to understand, not because they’re too difficult but because they are way too simple, and quite frankly, we have been so full of ourselves lately that even the simplest of things are perceived via our minds in the most difficult of ways.

I have read of internal and external wars and it never ceases to amuse me how none of them end, even when they do. Those everyday life battles, the ones you run from all your life and when you find someone that you could finally run to, you find them running and they run and you run and you keep ..you keep running, in circles..and you come back and you start again and you pray to the lord above it ends this time, but it doesn’t and you do it all over again. You scream at the top of your lungs and you wish, you just wish someone could hear you, but you’re in a tunnel, and ..no one can hear you.You’re getting closer and you are about to find a way out of it and the lights are bright from a distance and you run and you want to get there and you do and then you stop. Do you want out of the tunnel? For if you want out, you can go out, it’s a matter of a couple of steps and you will be out, of this tunnel and into your world.Do you want out of the tunnel? For if you want out of the tunnel then you could control the several nerves that are affecting every single bone, every breath you take, every heartbeat, everything..Do you, my friend, want out of the tunnel?  

beautifaction:

Hey you, my elastic skin. I can make you move, I can.

I can twist you around like a pickle whose mind was formed and killed, I can twist you around my bones that have felt the burdens of nothingness.

I can remove you, I can make you. My skin, my elastic skin. I can pile you up to form a…

Today, someone told me that its such an exquisite feeling to fall in love with someone, even if for a very short period of time, even if you’re like a magnate that attracts heart breaks and mind fucks. That is almost exactly how he put it. It made me think about a lot of things, not just the fact that sometimes, I’m unintentionally ungrateful for the blessings I have in my life, but also the likelihood of my being in love with someone that doesn’t know I exist. A friend of mine always said that love is lovely regardless of all the shit it brings to your life.Love and Literature are entwined. In literature, there is a vast difference between reading a piece of work and appreciating it. Some people find the hideous images that are implied hurtful and sometimes even boring. Some find them realistic and true to life. However, only a few find them entertaining.It touches the hearts of only a few, it makes them cry their hearts out, it makes them want to read even more of that misery and sense every part of it. Nobody wants to be hurt, but if one had to choose between getting hurt or never having to feel this way…well, that’s up to you to answer.Eventually you’ll move on, because earth always moved round..

Margaret Atwood (via austinkleon)

(via bibliofeminista)