My sweet solitude

May be if I get lost long enough , I'll find myself .

و تتصل و انت بتدعى من كل قلبك انهم ميردوش 

I saw that jaded old man on a sea chair, letting the chair feet sink deep inside the warm sand. I am not sure if that was his body weight making the chair dig that deep into the sand, it was his worries ingraining inside his soul instead. His body looked so weightless and his soul wasn’t, and I guess that’s why he was there, he might be trying to tell his stories to the sea and let his worries wade into its interminable wading water, just like myself.
Reem Khorshid. (via rimkhorshid)

We fall in love with one version of someone and we expect them to stay that way, but they never do.
— Olivia Wilde, Her: Love in the Modern Age (via heresay)

She moved on and I feel sorry for you, because she overlooked your flaws, your temper, your selfishness, your inability to love anyone but yourself. She could have anyone in the world, but she still chose you every time. All you are now is a crease in her past, a scar on her chest, a memory that fades faster than a photograph of you in a sealed box, hidden. Maybe now she will fight for someone who loves her, instead of someone who sucks the life out of her, never satisfied, even with her beating heart in his greedy hands.
— i feel sorry for you.. really sorry :)

My mother once told me that trauma is like Lord of the Rings. You go through this crazy, life-altering thing that almost kills you (like say having to drop the one ring into Mount Doom), and that thing by definition cannot possibly be understood by someone who hasn’t gone through it. They can sympathize sure, but they’ll never really know, and more than likely they’ll expect you to move on from the thing fairly quickly. And they can’t be blamed, people are just like that, but that’s not how it works.

Some lucky people are like Sam. They can go straight home, get married, have a whole bunch of curly headed Hobbit babies and pick up their gardening right where they left off, content to forget the whole thing and live out their days in peace. Lots of people however, are like Frodo, and they don’t come home the same person they were when they left, and everything is more horrible and more hard then it ever was before. The old wounds sting and the ghost of the weight of the one ring still weighs heavy on their minds, and they don’t fit in at home anymore, so they get on boats go sailing away to the Undying West to look for the sort of peace that can only come from within. Frodos can’t cope, and most of us are Frodos when we start out.

But if we move past the urge to hide or lash out, my mother always told me, we can become Pippin and Merry. They never ignored what had happened to them, but they were malleable and receptive to change. They became civic leaders and great storytellers; they we able to turn all that fear and anger and grief into narratives that others could delight in and learn from, and they used the skills they had learned in battle to protect their homeland. They were fortified by what had happened to them, they wore it like armor and used it to their advantage.

It is our trauma that turns us into guardians, my mother told me, it is suffering that strengthens our skin and softens our hearts, and if we learn to live with the ghosts of what had been done to us, we just may be able to save others from the same fate.

— S.T.Gibson (via ratatoskidile)

No more buzzing tonight 

there will be no rain or light

Defeated , pleaded , loud screams 

outstanding the worst of dreams 

No more echoing loud laughs 

there will be no cracking glass 

Up to the rainbows .. straight to the core 

every thought became so sore 

No more hugs or kisses

there will be no more blisses 

Burning ashes .. burning hopes

loosening once so tight ropes 

No more nothing but solitude 

No more glee ..

No more me .

أشعر بكآبة غريبة. مثل كآبة شخص جهز نفسه مطولا لموعد على العشاء مع شلة أصدقاء مقربين ثمّ اكتشف أنه أتى وحده.
— مريم الساعدي (via alshaikha)

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