Forwarded from Thoughts Hub (Hubeyb☁️)
With all my optimism, I want to experience living the opposite.
As described by Woody Allen, the pessimist ..
"You start dead and get rid of death, then you wake up in a home for the elderly, you feel better every day, you are expelled because you have become very healthy, you go to get your pension, and when you start work, you get a golden hour and a party on your first day. You work for forty years until You are young enough to enjoy your retirement.
Now you are ready for high school. Then you join the elementary school, you become a child, play, you have no responsibilities, then an infant until you are born, to spend your last nine months floating in your luxurious resort equipped with central heating, room service, and housing that can expand every day.
Now look, here you are ending up as ecstasy. "
As described by Woody Allen, the pessimist ..
"You start dead and get rid of death, then you wake up in a home for the elderly, you feel better every day, you are expelled because you have become very healthy, you go to get your pension, and when you start work, you get a golden hour and a party on your first day. You work for forty years until You are young enough to enjoy your retirement.
Now you are ready for high school. Then you join the elementary school, you become a child, play, you have no responsibilities, then an infant until you are born, to spend your last nine months floating in your luxurious resort equipped with central heating, room service, and housing that can expand every day.
Now look, here you are ending up as ecstasy. "
Forwarded from Thoughts Hub (Hubeyb☁️)
- who are you ?
We are the moody, doomed to misunderstanding, always accused of arrogance, because we are silent, we who do not resort to anyone when we feel sad and self-medicate. We are the morning lovers of the evening
We choose half of the light and dimming. We who thought that when we drown; We will die .. we drowned in art ... and because of this drowning: we survived. We get more mature with pain, not with the passage of time. We do not arrange the places of people in our hearts, their actions take over.
Glory be to us, we are the ones whose resurrection is based within us, and only calmness and balance is shown on our features.
We are the moody, doomed to misunderstanding, always accused of arrogance, because we are silent, we who do not resort to anyone when we feel sad and self-medicate. We are the morning lovers of the evening
We choose half of the light and dimming. We who thought that when we drown; We will die .. we drowned in art ... and because of this drowning: we survived. We get more mature with pain, not with the passage of time. We do not arrange the places of people in our hearts, their actions take over.
Glory be to us, we are the ones whose resurrection is based within us, and only calmness and balance is shown on our features.
I saw a quote saying"the sky is tragically beautiful.A graveyard of stars"and at that moment I thought the world is just like that. Its beauty can leave you speechless.when you hear the laughter of children and old people and the young and feel how heartfelt it is.when you see the kindness of strangers...their respect and all that is simple yet complicated...It is odd how one suffers and still has kindness in his heart...The ocean...The lands...The faces...The way they dance..The way they love...I couldn't even start to describe how alluring that is...but then....but then...there is much darker part...that can absorb all the light in the world....the emptiness each being carry....that black hole.....the corpses that move...which makes the world another graveyard carrying her children's corpses and interweaving each of their moves so one shall find healing in another...so two souls can shine through the cracks of their heart with love as the stars do and then you realize that the sky and the earth are simply the Same yet different canvases....
-Yeab T🥀-
-Yeab T🥀-
Forwarded from Thoughts Hub (Hubeyb☁️)
We are the only ones, we only meet in the pages of a black writer who knows about unity..we are the sons of grief “Franz Kafka”, the philosophy of “Nietzsche”, depression of “Dostoevsky” and the absurdity of “Albert Camus” ..
We are all the sad writings written by unknown writers who were suffering from loneliness and sadness. We are saddened by a musician who committed suicide from depression. We are the lines that Van Gogh drew with a shivering hand before he committed suicide. The last words of Dalida before her suicide and the last tremor of “ Gandhi ”before he was assassinated ..
We are the owners of the sad murals in alleys and dialogues, inhabited by the poor slums of love decorated with lies and hypocrisy, we are the ones who descended from everyone who was suffering from syndromes of fear and disorders of depression ..
We are those who sit in the last classes in the lectures no one notices our existence and no one cares about our absence ..
We are friends of the night, sadness and depression. We are the ones who know no one about us, and no matter how close anyone approaches us, he has very little about us.
We are the only ones who have no one to cry with about trivial things before the important ones, we are those who are accustomed to loss, pain and soreness, who suffer for children crying, for bloody scenes, and we may cry to see a sad scene in a movie, we are the ones who have no reasons for our actions and We do not know how to justify it or even defend ourselves ..
Those who are accustomed to staying up late for no apparent reason, who do not have any justification for contemplating the ceiling, in the sky, in following up the forms of stars, and we may create from our cloud companions our companions ..
We are the owners of antique brains that are sedatives that fail to remain, those who are irritable by a passing word, those with ever-changing moods, crying spells, and sudden sadness ..
We are the ones who do not care about us, and we no longer care about anyone’s matter. We are the owners of existential questions that are unanswered. Those who used to keep silent in the most severe situations that call for conversation. We are the ones whose words are never taken seriously. We are the ones who create arguments to apologize from attending parties. And gatherings, we are everyone's friends and we have no friend, those who have made music a companion to them ..
We are all the people who walk in the streets at the time of rain, those who weep in their room in the evening and wake up in the morning as if they had not cried for hours, we are the ones who have not sent messages, and the pain that cannot be uttered, and the wishes that were not fulfilled ..
We are the only ones who are fake in front of people, who are honest in front of themselves, we are the ones who only have broken hearts and broken dreams and wishes that are in limbo ..
We are forgotten, but do not forget, the agonized, who are unable to hurt anyone, and the peaceful ones, some have assaulted our feelings without a reaction from us ..
We are the only ones in everything, in our solitude, in our moments of depression, and no one knows about our pain, we are the ones who cry in silence and suffer in silence and cry in silence ..
We are the moody with the curse of details, obsessive-compulsive disorder, syndromes of fear, closeness and concern, we are the unheard screams of pain and hidden tremors of sadness, we who never meet but know each other, we gather in sadness, depression, calmness and complete darkness, amid the crowd We hide in the last seats and we hide from the silly looks of pity.
We are the only ones as the last child on earth in the city of the dead ...
We are all the sad writings written by unknown writers who were suffering from loneliness and sadness. We are saddened by a musician who committed suicide from depression. We are the lines that Van Gogh drew with a shivering hand before he committed suicide. The last words of Dalida before her suicide and the last tremor of “ Gandhi ”before he was assassinated ..
We are the owners of the sad murals in alleys and dialogues, inhabited by the poor slums of love decorated with lies and hypocrisy, we are the ones who descended from everyone who was suffering from syndromes of fear and disorders of depression ..
We are those who sit in the last classes in the lectures no one notices our existence and no one cares about our absence ..
We are friends of the night, sadness and depression. We are the ones who know no one about us, and no matter how close anyone approaches us, he has very little about us.
We are the only ones who have no one to cry with about trivial things before the important ones, we are those who are accustomed to loss, pain and soreness, who suffer for children crying, for bloody scenes, and we may cry to see a sad scene in a movie, we are the ones who have no reasons for our actions and We do not know how to justify it or even defend ourselves ..
Those who are accustomed to staying up late for no apparent reason, who do not have any justification for contemplating the ceiling, in the sky, in following up the forms of stars, and we may create from our cloud companions our companions ..
We are the owners of antique brains that are sedatives that fail to remain, those who are irritable by a passing word, those with ever-changing moods, crying spells, and sudden sadness ..
We are the ones who do not care about us, and we no longer care about anyone’s matter. We are the owners of existential questions that are unanswered. Those who used to keep silent in the most severe situations that call for conversation. We are the ones whose words are never taken seriously. We are the ones who create arguments to apologize from attending parties. And gatherings, we are everyone's friends and we have no friend, those who have made music a companion to them ..
We are all the people who walk in the streets at the time of rain, those who weep in their room in the evening and wake up in the morning as if they had not cried for hours, we are the ones who have not sent messages, and the pain that cannot be uttered, and the wishes that were not fulfilled ..
We are the only ones who are fake in front of people, who are honest in front of themselves, we are the ones who only have broken hearts and broken dreams and wishes that are in limbo ..
We are forgotten, but do not forget, the agonized, who are unable to hurt anyone, and the peaceful ones, some have assaulted our feelings without a reaction from us ..
We are the only ones in everything, in our solitude, in our moments of depression, and no one knows about our pain, we are the ones who cry in silence and suffer in silence and cry in silence ..
We are the moody with the curse of details, obsessive-compulsive disorder, syndromes of fear, closeness and concern, we are the unheard screams of pain and hidden tremors of sadness, we who never meet but know each other, we gather in sadness, depression, calmness and complete darkness, amid the crowd We hide in the last seats and we hide from the silly looks of pity.
We are the only ones as the last child on earth in the city of the dead ...
Have you ever wanted to heal or try to know if the day of healing awaits you not for yourself but for the ones you love but didnt know where to start.....like you have dwelled in the darkness for long that nothing seems a way out?
@wordsofpain🌑
@wordsofpain🌑
Forwarded from republique (∂ я є α м є я ✨)
I'll pour out what I have left of you on these crumpled sheets, paint my way down memory lane on the tiled floors, carve my pain out with trembling hands on the wooden ceilings, connect the dots in the pitch black sky until I'm swimming in your waves again, until I hang on this trapeze and immerse myself in every bit of you. until reality becomes a vivid duplication of my faculty of consciousness and thought, until you're as clear as daylight, until I can trace my bony fingers over your every edge, over the soul that departed from mine with my heart in his hands.
Forwarded from Thoughts Hub (Hubeyb☁️)
Like a tree that has been moved to a new location and suffers from hesitation between hitting its roots in the ground or groveling.
Have you ever found yourself trying to do something to cope with your misery...cutting...smoking...doing drugs...drinking...whatever it is that made sense in your mind...whatever it is that made you feel you are in control over this disease that constantly makes you think you have no power over it and again Have you ever been in a position where that thing stopped doing it for you???stopped making you feel like you have got you and that you are doing something about it?Ya...at a moment cutting stopped doing it for me...
-Yeab T🗡-
-Yeab T🗡-
I dont think anything changed....I dont think anything ever changed from the way it usually was...it was just that for a time like some other times I felt so shallow...so deep with just a hole....so vague...and just...something just haunted me ....something frightened me cause I was so scared of being unloved... left alone...some amazingly awful creature...so pretentious...and I just couldn't do it anymore...I couldn't go on...It took so much of me to wake up and join with people cause I became too aware of the fact that I was fake.i couldn't know what being real looks like in such a fake world????maybe I am real being constantly told by a fake world that I am no different...or maybe everyone is real and I am just fake ...i just saw this people that surrounded me being cared for and being real and being loved for it when my total existence became so dull and fake..and I couldn't find anything that I could like about me...everyone didn't ask for the love they were given..or for the care they get...and they continuously got this overflowing love when I question everything that I was given as a due I had to pay...like a debt being pilled....and I just lost ...I lost cause I didnt have any word to say or any thing to offer or any good memory to remember...or any affirmation of pure love from anyone and suddenly I doubted everything and all that there is...and finally i doubted God about me...why I am such a mess...and If i am ever going to measure up....
-Yeab T🥀-
-Yeab T🥀-