as much as i seem like a grim person, i think everything happens for a reason. i can puzzle out my whole life and it makes sense to me.
i used to get mad about how things turned out and how things are,
i will always be but mann i’m glad for where i am. i would’ve never met people i genuinely love. i wouldn’t be here if everything didn’t happen the way it did. so be sentimental, as much as you can be.

i want to dye my hair but with henna
but i don’t want to lose my gray hairs.

Morning babes!

i learned how to play pool because i once told my older brother that my other brother was playing pool because he wouldn’t take me with him and ever since, he’s started taking me with him.

if we do it together why would i snitch.

my airpods are washed
geta hoyy

my fault should’ve checked my pockets.

gezulgn😭
endew bemariam afem yelgn kezi buhala

sejemer today i woke up with a lot of energy, i cleaned everything.

yeah, i might never get a haircut the attachment i have to my hair, or maybe the confidence i feel when it’s curly, is almost scary. i think that’s exactly why i want to cut it. it’s like i like myself more when my hair is out, but at the same time, i hate any kind of attention, and that makes me anxious. i want to be detached from it from all of it.
i hate when i focus on myself meaning i hate when i care about this stuff, i hate when someone compliments something i wore it means i am not going to wear it again around them, idk why i am built like this but i hate any form of good attention it suffocates me.
and idk why

the moon babes.

omggggg literally the lomllllllll

istg he basically raised me
getaaa hoy me emotionalll

i swear to god i sent it as a joke.
miskin

honestly every first born has a right to complain.
they raised us.

i love my women.

i wonder sometimes, do good things ever show themselves? like, if i wrote about something gentle, or someone that feels like light, in my dusty old journal… would it react? would the ink smell like rain, the pages turn softer, maybe a flower sneak out from between the lines? would the book whisper, “finally a good thing,” and breathe a little easier? i think about that about how maybe the words could hum quietly. but then again, what use is goodness if it fades when the page ends? do all stories have to bruise at the end? tell me, if i wrote you there, would the paper turn cold, or would you make it warm, only for it to freeze again? would it cherish the quick warmth it had, or grow to resent it? is it better to have burned for a moment than to have never existed at all?

i like to embarrass myself.

read research papers blen!!

that realization when you finally see , people aren’t shit, it’s just you kept dumbing yourself down.

mtsm yehone hezb.