Drowned Head To Toe, Left Breathless, But Still Filled With It. It’s Like The Feeling I Have Towards

Of all the things that remind me of love, cats are at the top of the list. Their eyes hold something different, something enchanting, like a silent understanding of the world around them. They love in their own way—warm, selfish, and a little bratty, like a child who thinks you belong to them. Sometimes, they act like your baby, sometimes like your boss. Every single one of them has a personality that makes me want to meet them all, build a whole cat family, and just exist among them.

Orange cats are pure chaos, but somehow the softest souls. White cats carry themselves like royalty, too elegant to bother with the rest of the world. Gray cats act all calm and collected, but they’re little troublemakers once you know them. Black cats hold a quiet kind of love, the kind that feels steady and safe. And tuxedo cats walk around like they own the place, like they just left a fancy dinner party and decided to grace us with their presence.

Every cat feels like a reflection of someone, a reminder of a certain kind of soul. And the best thing about them? When one chooses you, they’re yours forever. They love in a way that’s awkward yet endearing, poking at you when you’re sad, pulling away just to come right back. And the way they get jealous when you pet another cat? Nothing beats that.

There’s nothing quite like having a cat in your life, feeding them, talking to them, sharing a space where words aren’t needed. In a way, they remind me of my inner child—curious, stubborn, and full of love in ways that don’t always make sense. Maybe every cat carries a little piece of someone, a little piece of us. But all I know is, I love them, and I’ll never get tired of saying it.

it’s me vs. my mind everyday.

تبكي صغيرتي،

تخبرني بكل أمانيها،

ألتفت إليها شاردة الذهن: أي أمانٍ؟

تسقط حجارة أخرى جنبا لنا،

أين نحيا؟

لن تُصيبنا أيٌّ منها،

فلقد اتفق الركام من حولنا على حمايتنا…

ممّن؟

أفقتُ… لقد سكنتْ،

ربما انشغلت بالأصوات من حولنا،

ونسيت ما أبكاها…

أي أمانٍ؟

شرعتُ أبكي،

وأخبرها بكل أماني…

كم أرغب برؤيتها تحت سماء أنقى،

وكم أودّ لو يحتضن الدفء قلبها،

حتى وإن قرر - تباعًا - أن يرحل عني دهرًا.

تتكئ صغيرتي على الركام لتنهض،

تربّت على كتفي: أي أمانٍ؟

أين صغيرتي؟

وأين ركامي؟

وكيف غدوتُ وحدي،

أبكي على آمالنا؟

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

It’s funny how some friends acting like a crazy ex is worse than having an actual ex

Needed

if it's good enough for you, then it deserves to be made. don't let anyone else decide if your story is worth it or not.

My memory loves you; it asks about you all the time.

Blending into every detail of my day - a thought of you, intertwining with everything, so even the warmth of my coffee reminds me of the warmth of your hands!

And your face is drawn between the clouds of my mind, forcing me to stop caring about them. What clouds when you're here, love?

My memory craves you, and I'm drained..

How do I answer its constant question, "When will we make new memories?"

What if it denies me and keeps talking about us when I tell it that you've gone?

Would you please tell me how I can flee from it and from your eyes?