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My next purchase calling out my name

What if a writer loved you

You'll be a sanctuary, a temple
The papers are refuge when you're at risk
You'll realize your smallest details you never noticed
Your faults will be poems about virtues
You'll be written and narrated as a story of this universe
You'll be a million things that,
it'll make you forget your own face

It is possible to distinguish the broken person from the way he drinks coffee, from the way he follows passersby. You might guess the shape of the artery that they carried from his wrist to his heart. Or glimpse the gloss of nails they imported for the knee, to keep him standing.

The person who scattered before usually turns around him, and you see in his eyes that he is tightly closed, and if he turns around as if he is looking for a part that is still missing from him. It may seem to turn very slow, because they glued it with glue to fill a gap between two members.

A person who has been torn apart is nothing but himself, like sealed labels ripped from envelope covers. Ended with stamp collectors.

Amen to the pain and Amen to the pleasure

I have learned that sometimes surrendering to grief is braver than resisting it. Some sorrows did not come to fight us, but rather to sit around our wounds before fate. Maybe a step back will help you take a thousand steps forward.

"silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence.
It was my own silence"
—Sylvia Plath

About a year ago, a conversation of mental health days came up with a friend of mine. He believed that schools and workplaces all needed to allow their students or workers to have a day or two off when things were too overwhelming. It isn't a perfect plan exactly and it won't solve everything. I don't know if any organization would be willing to do this. But, he has a point. I agreed with him back then, and I still do - now more than ever. The whole idea resonated more to me the past 2 to 3 months when I was silently begging the universe for a break. School was so tough on me and to make things worse, I wasn't in the right mindset to keep up with anything. I think many of you will understand, it's like when something you're doing is demanding so much out of you but the stress from it and other things in life overwhelm you and you just sit there paralyzed, watching others work questioning why you can't. I'm not saying a day off would solve mental health problems. I'm not saying a little break will make the world all sunflowers and daisies. But it would be nice to be able to step back sometimes. To breathe, to reflect and to remember why you do what you do. Wouldn't it?

~You don't have to wait for anything. If you feel like you've lost track, take an hour, half a day, or a full one to do things that help you relax or restore energy. Prioritize yourself. 😊

@thesunandherflowerss

For an insomniac, the chirping of birds that comes after a sleepless night signals the last in many waves of melancholy. What usually was a pleasant sound becomes depressing. Day is here and it is time to get on with the monotony and onslaught of life. They are those who sleep does not call for. Those who have not taken sleep as a lover; not being excused from having to constantly exist every few hours. The unloved and deprived.

Something to wakeup or sleep to🖤

First amharic short writing...Go easy on me yall

I love love, and I love it firmly to the point of safe leaning on it, and I love it real to the point of smooth recognition of its existence, the limit of its appearance on the face, in the shining of eyes, smiles and calm breaths, and the limit of flaunting it, and I love it realistic, not satisfied with hinting, not satisfied with confession, I love it mature, transcends, just being in a case, or trying to write poetry.

I love the tenderness of love, the state that changes to a happy, contented, peaceful modesty, for no reason and permanent, the trembling of the heart for the voice of the beloved, a secret word between two and alone laughing in combination whenever someone says it spontaneously without knowing that it is a common little secret, to love someone, to know her, to be a real part of her days and her world, that is intimacy and security, an endless tenderness.‌‌

This world can take everything but not the love...it cannot take the love from my heart.

When I think about you in huge doses, I drown in despair, in longing, in guilt. I learned to think of you in tiny rations like meals delivered to my plate, three times a day. Each time enough to nourish me, to make me hope, to keep my heart alive.

"It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane."

- Philip K. Dick, VALIS