Maybe that's what writers do-
Maybe they exaggerate pain just so that you feel okay about what you're feeling.

I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.

Choose a hobby :-

○ books
○ art(painting)
● throwing knives in mom's kitchen

Some people just straight-up smell like books 📚 It's like... what's going on there? Are you brewing a potion of knowledge? Baking a fresh batch of plot twists? Living an alter persona in that 2D world of yours?

Spill, book-smellers! What's cookin' in that cranium of yours...

Lemme get a sniff, I beg thee! I'm desperate to inhale your scent, oh ye bibliothecary! My brain cells are desperately clamouring for a hit of that sweet, sweet papyrus perfume.

For the sake of banishing this soul-crushing, beige-toned boredom that's currently gnawing at my very being... I'm open to suggestions. Preferably ones involving penguins, rain summoning dance, or any food item shaped like a dinosaur. Seriously, I'm this close to knitting a sweater for my cat (which I don't even have).

Some people can’t believe in themselves
Until someone else believes in them first

So be the first to believe in yourself

Me when they say they hear Chris brown instead of beabadoobee

Halal chemistry 😭

Question. Do you still think reading is relaxing?

Naturally disagreeable, 2025

Amaan Jahangir

how do you people teach english and feel fulfillment no offense but everytime they suggest i teach a language i start screaming and kicking and crying

Ihateit

“I need a father. I need a mother. I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty.”

— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“I'm homesick all the time... I just don't know where home is. There's this promise of happiness out there. I know it. I even feel it sometimes. But it's like chasing the moon - just when I think I have it, it disappears into the horizon.”

— Sarah Addison Allen, The Girl Who Chased the Moon

I need an older brother, one carved from the solid oak of certainty.
A holiday, where the insistent buzzing in my head finally ceases, where flowers surround me instead of unending papers. Maybe a pass to life's exams – no more analyzing every fleeting moment until it bleeds dry. I want the coffee to stop tasting like gasoline. A friend I can smile with, a genuine, unforced smile that doesn't feel like a performance for the unseen audience, who knows the quiet hum of despair that lives within me. But I'm an introvert who easily get tired of small talks.

Growing up is an endless process of me looking back at younger versions of myself and being like...wow she was so young! But look how well she did with what she knew.

And look at me now, I go to school and still don't know what to do in the freaking kitchen (don't ask about the road)

Let's skip the ' let's get to know each other ' phase cuz I don't know myself

Elizabeth is that you?