That Feeling—realizing You Might Not Know Someone As Well As You Thought—hurts In A Deep Way. It’s

All you had to do was stay.

He’s a mix of calm and chaos, of deep thoughts and quiet love. And somehow, he’s exactly what I need.

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?

I ain't lookin' to compete with you

Beat or cheat or mistreat you

Simplify you, classify you

Deny, defy or crucify you

All I really want to do

Is, baby, be friends with you.

Connection is the energy that is created between people when they feel seen, heard, and valued.

- Brené Brown

احترت انا بين قلبي وبينك، والحيرة عذاب.

معرفش الصادق مين فيكم؟ ومين الكداب؟

قلبي بيقولي كلام،وانت بتقولي كلام، وعنيا شايفه كلام،والناس

الناس بيقولوا كلام..

كأنما خُلق لأهواه،

وكم هو شهدٌ يسري في عروقي، لكنه يترك ندوبه

أدرك ذلك، أترقبك، وأسقط في الهاوية مجددًا

لكن ما نفع الهاوية؟

يقال إن الجحيم دوما يشير للأسفل،

غير أنني، بطريقة ما، أجعل منه جنة،ربما هو حبي؟

روحي، هذه الكتلة المتوهجة بالمشاعر،

لا تخسر جدالًا مع النيران، بل تتحد معها،

وتبقى لتدفئ قلبك

لكن، أليست السماء أسمى لحضنك؟

كيف لي أن أغرق عزيزي بنيران، حتى وإن أشعلها؟

وكيف أخف، أطفو، لاسكن تلك السماء مجددا

معك؟

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.

Drowned head to toe, Left breathless, but still filled with it. It’s like the feeling I have towards you, Slowly, gradually, consuming the cells, consuming the air.. Used to the pull, Didn't try to swim away, Until I forgot I was drowning. My mind floats high, My soul drifts weightless, Until suddenly— The water disappears. Was it ever here? It’s your hands, Reaching through the surface. Maybe I was never really drowning, Maybe it was always you I was submerged in, And yet my hands choose yours, As a way to survive this.

We are, each of us, a little Universe.

- Neil deGrasse Tyson

داخل كل شخص مجرة من الأفكار والتجارب والذكريات، محيطات من المشاعر والرغبات، وأقمار تدور حول أحلامه.