"The only reason I am here is because the ONES I LOVE DIDN'T GIVE UPON ME."🖤

A thought struck me.a million times again. a thought of you.a thought of me.a thought of a girl that is watering her pillows like somehow  they are garden flowers to be put in her tombstone.a thought of a guy running blade across his once scarless....once flawless body counting the cuts he made and recording them like the marks put all over a warrior after he shed an enemy's blood.i tried to imagine the dirt that got mixed in our ocean.we were once infants,weren't we?little children who went out from our mother's wombs in search of a greater comfort.children who felt safe from the simple touch of our mother's body.babies who thought our father's were the heroes who came out winners beyond everything.what happened to us?was it something that is written long before our soul met our body or did it take a moment....a cursed split of seconds.cause I remember being innocent once.i remember being loved once.i remember being normal.but I also remember myself playing without friends.i remember going from hating Saturdays to hating sundays to hating eachday.i remember struggling to sleep.i remember having nightmares...and I remember not wanting to wake up from them.i went from being a girl with a single secret to a girl with millions of them.scattered from being a "whole" girl with knee bruises to torn wrists to soon body full of bruise. A person I loved once was like that too.NORMAL.he was a worshipper.a hustler.he danced for pleasure like every grown up.he was a living human but dont know what it took I just lost him.on the moments he lit the cigar and put them between his teeth I saw in his eyes that his mere simplicities and complicated perfections have been dashed and divided into cosmos not wanting  to be together again.That's a story of love found and lost.thats my story.your story.ours.my questions have no end but explain this to me once.if the same hands that created galaxies...that created oceans...that crafted the passionate hands of picasso....that structured the minds of Einstein...that same being...those same hands created us then where did we go wrong?what kind of gene manipulation resulted in us?what kind of alliance of damned body and soul made us?which childhood monster have we played with that tamed us to crave hurt to be felt in ourselves and others...what went wrong.i need to know.it may heal to know.......

-Yeab T🌬

It’s just that I feel so sad these wonderful nights. I sort of feel they’re never coming again, and I’m not really getting all I could out of them.

- This side of paradise, F. Scott Fitzgerald

This says what I have been wanting to say this days🖤

They say "time heals", but even now ... I know that's a lie. What people really mean is that eventually you'll get used to the pain. You'll forget who you were without it; you'll forget what you looked like without your scars.

— Claudia Gray, A Thousand Pieces of You

It is easy to mourn the lives we aren't living. Easy to wish we'd developed other other talents, said yes to different offers. Easy to wish we'd worked harder, loved better, handled our finances more astutely, been more popular, stayed in the band, gone to Australia, said yes to the coffee or done more bloody yoga.
It takes no effort to miss the friends we didn't make and the work we didn't do the people we didn't do and the people we didn't marry and the children we didn't have. It is not difficult to see yourself through the lens of other people, and to wish you were all the different kaleidoscopic versions of you they wanted you to be. It is easy to regret, and keep regretting, ad infinitum, until our time runs out.
But it is not lives we regret not living that are the real problem. It is the regret itself. It's the regret that makes us shrivel and wither and feel like our own and other people's worst enemy.
We can't tell if any of those other versions would of been better or worse. Those lives are happening, it is true, but you are happening as well, and that is the happening we have to focus on.

The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

"Don’t fall in love with a woman who reads
A woman who feels too much
A woman who writes
Don’t fall in love with a woman that’s cultured, delirious and crazy
Don’t fall in love with a woman that knows how to fly
A woman that knows how to turn her flesh into soul
And most importantly...don’t fall in love with a woman who loves poetry
A woman that stands in front of a painting for a long time
And can’t live without music
Don’t fall in love with a woman that’s strong and won’t bow down
You wouldn’t want to fall in love with a woman like that
Because if you fall for her
And whether she stays with you or not
Or if she loves you first
From a woman like this no one comes back...no one returns..."

PERIODT!!!!!

If my pain disappears, if it joins the unseen, if it leaves my mind, who am I?

Depression wasn't the word this was a plunge encompassing sorrow and revulsion far beyond the personal a sick drenching nausea at all humanity and human endeavor from the dawn of time the writhing loathsomeness of the biologic order old age, sickness, death, no escape for anyone even the beautiful ones were like soft fruit about to spoil and yet somehow people still kept fucking and breeding and popping out new fodder for the grave producing more and more new beings to suffer like this was some kind of redemptive or good or even somehow morally admirable thing dragging more innocent creatures into the lose-lose game. Squirming babies and plodding complacent, hormone drugged game. Oh, isn't he cute? Awww. Kids shouting and skidding in the playground with no idea what future hells awaited them: boring jobs and ruinous mortgages and bad marriages and hair loss and hip replacement and lonely cups of coffee in an empty house and a colostomy bag at the hospital. Most people seem satisfied with ths thin decorative glaze and the artful stage lighting that, sometimes made the bedrock atroctiy of the human predicament look somewhat more mysterious or less abhorrent
People gambled and golfed and planted gardens and traded socks and had sex and bought new cars and practiced yoga and worked and prayed and redecorated their homes and got worked up over the news and fussed over their children and gossiped about their neighbors and pored over restaurant reviews and founded charitable organizations and supported political candidates and attended the U.S open and dined and traveled and distracted themselves with all kinds of gadgets and devices, flooding themselves incessantly with information and texts and communication and entertainment from every direction to try to make themselves forget it: where we are, what we are. But in a strong light there was no good spin you could put on it. It was rotten top to bottom. Putting your time in at the office; dutifully spawning your two point five; smiling politely at your retirement party; then chewing on your bedsheet and choking on your canned peaches at the nursing home. It was better never to have been born, never to have wanted anything, never to have hoped for anything.


- The goldfinch by Donna tartt

"I hope it helps you build a garden inside of yourself"

Sleep well🤍

Have you ever been afraid of what you are becoming?