Me Too , Me Too.

Support the human in each girl... Nothing is simply a girl thing, we are half the world, we are different in all our unique ways. Hell, we are humans ,man! No two humans are the same , that is true diversity, keep that safe. We are half the world and half the world is in our minds. Embrace that , cuz we are no more, no less, just human, trying to find our own beautiful way of being. Let. Us. Be.

Protect weird girls. Ya know…. the ones that used to make up intricate games on the playground about ghosts and saving the world. The ones that used to have a whole BOX of fucking rolly pollies and worms. Those girls that used to have mason jars FULL of fucking god knows WHAT on their mother’s back porch. Protect… girls. Girls that daydream too much. Girls that could go out to Walmart dressed in cow girl boots, and a faux fur coat. Girls that invent whole other worlds in their heads. Girls that love too much. Girls that don’t love quite enough. Girls that don’t look, or sound the way society expects them to. Loud girls. Quiet girls. Angry girls. Sad girls. Support girls being themselves, and being unapologetic about it. The ones that get labeled “weird” for simply existing and being brave enough to not dim themselves down, just because society tells them, too. The girls that never lost their magic once they grew up. Support weird girls. 

Weirdly enough, this is one of my comfort songs.

(turn the music on before reading, you'll get me better)

I listen to it as i imagine him singing it to me.

Holding me carefully, not too little or i might fall apart, not too much or i might break. We sway slowly side to side, in each other's arms, just for a moment passing by, as i shed all my unseen tears. I imagine that he cares, he cares that he never cared for me like i did for him. I imagine him singing this to my poor soul, telling me that he'd only make me cry, because it would make more sense than my idea of "us". We sway with the wind brushing our sorrows away, somehow my sorrow held onto my heart for him and took it away as well. So as long as this song fills the room, we're the only two that exist, only two that matter. And as long as this plays, it matters to him that i never mattered to him as he did to me. He knows, he shows, he sees, he's sorry.

But the song ends, and so does this pitiful fantasy. Reality comes rushing in...

I had him on my mind , ingrained in my brain. I made playlists for him in hopes the melodies might convey a fraction of my affection. I saved posts that i would send him if he was ever mine. I wrote him poems, which were some of my best works. I had a whole digital diary of him, secret albums of pictures of him, especially of ones which i took, if he could see himself through my eyes, him smiling wide with glistening eyes, maybe he would also want to capture and safeguard every nuisance of his beauty; and also, there is that folder of pictures my friends took of us together in one frame, accidentally of course.

I thought of being near him all the time, i thought of his wellbeing, i wished for him to know how perfect he was. Is. And he doesn't know any of this. I had him written all over my life for about an year, and he will have no idea how deep it goes.

He never led me on, he never did anything that would "make" me feel something about him nor did he drop hints that he felt something, he didn't have to, i guess, because i was never delusional, just utterly smitten...

(but then, what business did those eyes have, meeting mine??)

One day, i gave in to this agony and said to him that i liked him, and he said it was ok, i was his friend, this won't change anything. He was the nicest about it. But I still wonder, what if I would have said so much more, only if he could hear so much more... if he could, I'd tell him,

how like is something i did to a stranger at the airport who i talked to for a few minutes,

how like doesn't do justice to the gravity with which i was falling,

how like is what my mouth says, while my heart goes on to describe his beautiful piscine eyes, as the deepest ocean I'd drown in,

how like is what i wished it was, because it wasn't love of course, something less, something very one sided, but something so true.

If only i could tell him, i missed him when he was out of sight or even when he was right in front of my eyes, i fell for his laugh and his smile and his eyes and his lips and his hair and his hands and how he treated everyone respectfully, and his brain, and how he was so in love with his family, and how he was just a beautiful human being...

If i told him, i felt the familiarity of falling the first day i met him, if i told him i never wanted to be just friends, if i told him i would cherish him in every way he deserves...

Would it have made a difference? Would our story have a different ending?

I like to think

no.

I still don't know how to be that for someone else what he was to me.

Was? .... Is?....

no.

For the sake of my damn heart and the amount of love overflowing from it, it should not be an "is".

Was.

"Was" is where it should belong.

So I'll listen to "cry" again and imagine him singing again as we sway back and forth and I'll imagine i cry my unseen tears and pretend that

this is what my closure is.

Why do some people make you sorry? Sorry, for ever speaking or thinking they are worth your time and energy...

sometimes, you NEED to feel better, you NEED to be happier. Why?

for the sake of this world.

To appreciate the humanity that still remains. To look at the sunrise and sunset.

To tell your mom you love her, to tell your dad you love him. To, for once, tell your sibling that they are precious. to hate them again after.

To pet your dog or cat or hamster or horse or pig or any specie and let them know that their little lives mean bigger to you than anything.

To plant a tree and see it grow and fruit under your care.

To see green. and blue, and yellow, and red and f**king every colour we cant imagine.

To listen to people talking and living and find someone to talk and live with.

To love, to eat, to sleep, to repeat.

To leave a legacy as a human no one else is

To appreciate the fact that you, who had 1 in a billion chance to be formed inside your lifegiver, lived on and did what we call thriving, on this planet of fascinations.

for the sake of yourself and the life you lived and the space-time you travelled.... sometimes, you NEED to live, in order to live....

-mauli

yes.yes.yes... maybe those who suffer because of their less desirable faces are the ones who build their minds in the most beautiful ways...Adversity is the mother of Beauty

“It’s rare to meet someone with a mind just as beautiful as their face.”

— Unknown (via thoughtkick)

Tagged by @vantaerayleigh1997 Okay here I am , a little late but anyways..

1. I LOVE theoretical physics ... Science in general.

2. I hardly like any songs my generation is currently vibing to... Like songs that were before 2018... kind of for everything my GenZ fellows do, i feel like an old-school person, not much amazed by the ways of my gen.

3.I find my solace in writing. I am an overthinker *shocker* and writing makes me feel less guilty about it ( i know many will relate). Tagging- @moonlilyposts @julesgems @nerdycats @silent-steals-the-night @ch3rryblo55oms @ze-thoughts-are-stupid

Hi! If you get this, answer with three random things about yourself and send this to the last seven blogs in your notifications – Anonymously or not! Let’s get to know the person behind the blog! :)

alright so i'm turning this into an ask game, cuz why not

1. i sing

2. i have one pair of sweatpants that i absolutely adore and wear like every week

3. i love supernatural stuff

tagging my favs: @kaikaisa 💕 @the-poet-who-bleed-her-agony 🥺 @wallflowerkays @kashslayy @youll-be-fine @deviocat @queen-2006 @safeplaceblogs @marvelwweprinxessesworld @varnit @stardustofhers @mydemonisinthemirror (i feel like i'm missing 392752 people lol)

Haircut thoughts, felt like sharing

Yesterday, me and my sis went to get a haircut after 2 long years. I was sitting there as my sis got her hair chopped down and noticed a guy sitting beside her.

He had been there before we came in and left just before us - when both my sis and me were done. He just sat there and got a freaking makeover in all the possible ways. I personally don't like spending time in salons just to look good but that's just me, he liked it and did it and I was like yeah , you go boy! *Me feeling guilty for even noticing ,as this should be normal*

The guys who pamper themselves, who get facials and spend 2hrs in a salon getting everything done to look good, I feel they are truly open-minded. They don't care if people say "why is he spending so much time to look good? He is a guy! Such a girl thing to do!". Cuz they don't think that caring about looks is a "girl" thing. It's a human thing. Either one cares or one doesn't care. Nothing to do with the gender here.

Funny thing is that these people, guys who are in salons, don't even realise they respect females in that way. They will still go out and say " women take so long to get ready" when they just spent 2hrs getting there beard and hair set . Feels like in this society , a person has to have courage and bravery to say " It is no such thing as a girl thing". So , choosing the easier way , they say " Huh! Women." *Eye roll*

The society is build this way, it makes us feel this way. But we make the society too, and I feel we are here to change this. Let guys care for their looks if they want and girls not care if they want. Go ahead , be yourself . And you don't need some new found courage for that. Nothing is a girl thing or guy thing ,if it is, it's a human thing.

Btw, I got my hair from longer-than-shoulder length to cant-even-touch-the-eyebrow length and I love it!!

We as humans, don't seek improvement in the pursuit of perfection. Rather, the ability of constant improvement is itself the perfection we seek.

(og)

The Artist

What are we here for

If not

To become the spectators 

Of the cosmic artwork

Unfolding before our eyes

The cosmic artwork

Of a blue sky

With rose strokes across

As the sun's about to die

Over the far horizon

Only to be born again

The next present

With a new light

The cosmic artwork

Of the birds singing, 

On birth of light 

Each sunrise, of the clouds

Swaying and changing hues

The cosmic artwork

Of each little life itself

The chaos seemingly random

Binding us all with one life

Of the artist itself.

The cosmic artwork

That created nature,

The mother herself

For she's the artist of 

the cosmic art,

Her eyes glittered in awe

Of her own self.

.

.

We expect our friends to be our family and our family to be our friends. In all this confusion, we fail to value either.

How about letting each of them remain thereselves and love them no matter what?

☆☆☆