Tumblr Is My Twitter Because I Don't Have To Close My Eyes Every 2 Seconds Because Someone Ståbbing

If you are so keen on hating me,

Please hate me only in the mornings.

For I know you dream of me every night,

And I would rather slit my throat every single day

than to be a nightmare to you.

I pretend to be ever so reserved and cold. But god; how he only told me it was okay to be human- and now I've allowed his lips to find themselves on my wounds. Goodness; how I find myself to be so easily melted.

💋

I'm old? But I've been young for so many years how can you just take that away from me?

I hope writers realize that were not here to

Impress anyone

Make people like us

We're not even here to write well

We're here to finish the book

And not be historically accurate or use the correct word for it

I hope we writers know you can overexplain something and then remember the short word that summarises the 3 pages once u publish the book

This is for all teenage, rupi kaur 'cringey' writers as well. (I dont like u but u deserve a place on this earth aswell)

I've lived and felt for 30 years but she just smiled at me and I'm discovering emotions for the first time

“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you

“If the full moon loves you, why worry about the stars?”

— Tunisian Proverb

"You've stopped me from jumping off a cliff— you're the reason I'm alive and talking. The reason I want to live. So yes, I'm very entitled to force you to sleep next to me instead of letting you overtake another government."

"This is why I avoid communicating with you on work mornings, Caroline."

This so mean why my trauma isn't cool af ugh

God gave me royalty to be at ease yet it's the thing I hate the most about me. He gave me good things to be grateful for but I hate them all. This is because there is something rotting within me. It was all assigned to the wrong person. I cannot be normal. "I feel scared Yusuf. I'm scared of you. Whenever you kiss my feet I remember how I was treated in the palace. You dont treat me like the servants used to. Why don't you treat me like the servants used to? Why don't you treat me like a slave? I am carrying every bad thing that has ever happened to me on my back like a sack of stones over my shoulder wherever I go. It digs into my neck and causes a rash that burns. Initially, I thought maybe I felt special. After all, I am a princess. I thought that's what separates me from the crowd. But when people flash a smile I feel offended. I hate it, Yusuf. I hate when people smile and compliment me. I hate anything lavish. I desperately need gold that is fake. I need to be clad in simple cotton kurtas. I hate the colour red. This is what I try to explain to you everyday! In the bazaar, you pitied me for the common stones on the rings occupying my fingers. I explained it to you then. After it all, you say I do not deserve the frail mattresses. What is that you mean? Are you trying to take revenge on me?! Though our hatred for my father is mutual, after all I am his daughter. How am I supposed to believe you do not wish to sabotage me when you threaten to put me in the same position I barely crawled out of? Do you even know? I hate the purple silk sheets and the grandiose bed chamber. When I lie on my back, I still do not get adequate rest because the light of the moon is caught by the very real diamonds stuck to the top edges of the chamber. It glints and reflects onto my eyes. It is blinding. I hate them, too. The royal stones remind me of the rotten marrow swimming in my bones. I hate when I look into the mirror and I look pretty."