يبدو هينًا أن نغرق هنا، فما هي إلا سُنّة. كما أشعر به سخيفًا...

There is so much stubborn hope in the human heart.

Albert Camus

I don’t want the children of another woman

to have the eyes of the man I won’t forget

One day, maybe,

his eyes will look at me again—

but from another face.

A child running, laughing,

with pieces of him that aren't mine.

And I’ll be walking through it all—

touching everything we knew.

A flower,

the grass,

the lies written in the photos.

He’s everywhere,

just never with me.

But tell me—

how could you share a piece of yourself

with someone else?

Free yourself from whatever is holding you back from being what you want & need.

Don't Cry—Two Versions, Two Souls..

I’ve been listening to these songs for two years now, and I still can’t move on!! Ever had a song completely wreck you? Well, Don’t Cry by Guns N’ Roses did it twice. Two versions, same name, same story—but they hit so differently. And I feel both. Every. Single. Time.

I first heard the Alternative Version, and the very first line hit me like a truck. "If we could see tomorrow, what are your plans?" It made me stop and think—if I could see my future, would I still be this lost? Would I still be stuck in my own head? Would I finally have answers? And when he says, "Knowing your love's decided, and all love is real," it messes me up. Is love really the main point of life? Is it what makes us want to live ?and feel safe & alive?

And the pain in this version—it’s not just about heartbreak. It’s about realizing something heartbreaking. "I thought I could live in your world as years all went by." That’s when it gets too real... The feeling of trying—really trying—to be part of someone's world, only to realize you never truly belonged there. And when he says,

"My heart won’t deny you. So many seem so lonely with no one left to cry to," I feel that. He’s letting go, but not for himself—for the other person. Because real love isn’t just about having someone, it’s about wanting them to be happy, even if it’s not with you and the fact ( WORST FACT EVERRR ) that YES! Some people have no one.....

Then there’s the Original Version. And this one? This one is different. Softer. Warmer. It’s love, even in goodbye. The first line? "Talk to me softly, there's something in your eyes." That’s the kind of love that sees you, that notices when you’re hurting without you even saying a word. He doesn’t want them to hold their pain alone. He just wants them to talk. To be heard. To be understood.

And the way he holds on—"Give me a kiss before you tell me goodbye." That one sentence carries everything. It’s like he knows they have to part, but he just wants one last moment before it’s over. It’s not bitter. It’s not angry. It’s just love. And the most heartbreaking part????

"There's a heaven above you, baby." Like, no matter how painful this is, there’s something bigger, something watching over us. Maybe love never really dies—it just shifts, moves, finds another way to exist through this heaven

And that’s why these songs will never leave me. It’s genius. Two songs, same story, yet completely different perspectives. One is holding on, the other is realizing. One is still soft, even when it’s over. The other is questioning everything, wondering if it was ever real.

I still listen and I still feel everything. This is what music is supposed to do. This is why it’s a masterpiece.

It's thoughtful how, as you grow older, each day reveals that to feel, to experience, is the true goal of life—the meaning of everything. To be alive is to feel down, loved, empty, happy...

It's all part of life, your life, your precious experience.

level: impossible

Imagine being loved the way you love

متعلّقة بعلم اللغة، كالعلاقة بين الفنان وموضوعه، دراسة من أجل احتضانها، من أجل احتضان صوتها، تاريخها، ازدواجيتها، هويتها، وجسدها، كالإتقان الجارح، كالاختراع الأخّاذ، باكتشاف هتافاتها المطمورة، لكي لا يُدفن أصلها من خلال أي استعمار، كيف توجد اللغة فينا إن لم نستوعبها من الطبيعة؟ من المحيطات والجبال والصحاري؟ ومن مهد الحضارة؟ كيف كان شكلها قبل أن ننطقها؟ متى كانت ولادتها الأولى؟ الزوال يصبح لغةً حين تتحدث الآلهة، حين ترسل بركاتها إلينا، حين تتجلى قدرتها السامية على تكوين الحياة، كأنها لحن أزليّ يذوب في الأحياء، وينمو في كل جزء من الصمت، هي نوع من السحر يفوق قدرة الكثيرين على احتمالها، كالهدير الذي يعرّي السموات، الذي يضم الابتهالات، الذي يحرك النبض فينا، والذي يستقبل كل مناجاة.

im better off alone