(Source: staypozitive)
I love, because my love is not dependent on the object of love. My love is dependent on my state of being. So whether the other person changes, becomes different, friend turns into a foe, does not matter, because my love was never dependent on the other person. My love is my state of being. I simply love.
my love is building a building
around you, a frail slippery
house, a strong fragile house
(beginning at the singular beginning
of your smile)a skilful uncouth
prison, a precise clumsy
prison(building thatandthis into Thus,
Around the reckless magic of your mouth)
my love is building a magic, a discrete
tower of magic and(as i guess)
when Farmer Death(whom fairies hate)shall
crumble the mouth-flower fleet
He’ll not my tower,
laborious, casual
where the surrounded smile
hangs
breathless
(via eecummings)
I really think the reason it’s so hard for me to get over this guy is because I seriously believed he was my soulmate.”
“He probably was. Your problem is you don’t understand what that word means. People think a soulmate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soulmate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soulmate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soulmates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it. Your problem is, you just can’t let this one go. It’s over. His purpose was to shake you up, tear apart you ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life, then beat it.
That was his job, and he did great, but now it’s over. Problem is, you can’t accept that this relationship had a real short shelf life. You’re like a dog at the dump, you’re just lickin’ at an empty tin can, trying to get more nutrition out of it. And if you’re not careful, that can’s gonna get stuck on your snout forever and make your life miserable.
So drop it.
Can anyone tell me what this is from? It’s beautiful. I smell a dystopian novel in the works.
(Source: cabbagesk1ngs)
Folie. Serious.
To my left, I see my pillow, and to my right, I see my suitcase.
There are many other items on both sides. But the fact that these two inanimate objects were worthy of noting down, suggests something.
Pillows. Pillow. Sleep.
Connotations of peace, serenity, drifting away to another realm.
Suitcase. Movement. Travel.
Connotations of anxiety, leaving someone behind, perhaps a return.
(Source: imnn)
Worship
and obedience illuminates the heart and make’s it strong and steadfast,
until it becomes like a clear mirror shining with light. When Shaytaan
draws close, he is struck by its light like those, who try to eavesdrop
[in the heavens] are struck by the shooting stars, Shaytan flees from his heart with more terror than a wolf fleeing from a lion.
Ordinary riches can be stolen; real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you.
Oscar Wilde.
Wait.
The treachery of human fate smirks upon me, scrutinizes my emotions, criticizes my attempts and I remain almost breathless. When you are so numb you can see the needle pressing against your skin and it pierce through and you give it a stare; a stare so cold, a skin so pale, a pair of eyes shedding tears and a heart weeping blood.
Fate, as we all define it got various weird synonymous meanings, and the surprising fact is we all define with a lot of emotions; some with raising voice, some by reacting, some remaining quiet, yet some through few sobs and pausing for some air. I sometimes wonder, what if there were no more quarrel, no more protest, no words to express, no regrets, no guilt, and never having a thought of facing consequences…probably we would have lived a day longer, could breath at much ease, could see beyond our imagination. But would that be enough? I smile, a fake one of hiding a barrage of tears, or even being the reclusive soul of my solitary mind, I don’t know. But I realize that pain is for real, clearer, more deceptive, and more treacherous than anything you could ever compare it with. Emotions make us get the feeling of being human, the superior of all creatures yet suffering from inferiority complex from one another.
We can never describe ourselves in simple terms, in simple logic and although we live in this cynical world and manage a different ball game altogether, we do get ourselves wrapped up in smiling at the other person over the car window, yelling at the top of our voice whenever our team scores, or kissing the daughter goodbye promising that special surprise gift when you get back and you know she’ll wait…a wait that we all do when we were in our mother’s womb. . You see horror sequeal and for the adrenaline rush, you do wait. I stare at the crimson twilight every day, watch the flock of sparrows using their homing devices, see the white lilies blooming and then it happens; his voice echoes in my ears. Emotions speed through veins, nerve impulses make my heart beat faster. I have him in my memory, preserved well, loved and still loving in every drop of my blood. My wait will be over soon.
