Curate, connect, and discover
Being Alone - Blog Posts
Source: via pinterest.com
Sometimes it hits you exactly in your core. The realisation that you just not have that one person with whom you are never going to be angry, the person who gets your mood even before you realise, and someone to whom you can rant everything out.
Not loneliness but a peaceful abode
It's so lovely to walk on an empty road
It's not loneliness but a peaceful abode
The winds going slowly
Making your hairs a messy fun
You make the map to walk on
Nothing specific for your attention to lock on
You take your favourite turns
You can open yourself and run
The grass even on your side seems greener
You are not you but someone with a different demeanor
You might go back to the memory lane
But it's so nice that it doesn't give you pain
You can remember your favourite song
You might realise you haven't listened it for so long
You might sigh but it's a sigh of relief
There is no one to give you social anxiety
You can think the things you never think about
You can feel the emotions you were unaware about
It's not tragic
But just magic
Cuddling is all I really wanna do tonight π©
(Pic: Pinterest)
-Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes (Platinum Fiction Series)
They were wrong, love is never enough to keep someone with you.
Charles Bukowski, Tales of Ordinary Madness
-Vladimir Nabokov, from letter to Vera Nabokov dated July 1923, featured in Letters to Vera
"If you want to kill somebody, conquer his heart, Then leave slowly and leave them between death and madness."
~ Nizar Qabbani
β Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a letter to Arthur Davison Ficke
-Yanyi, from Dream of the Divided Field: Poems; βThe Friendβ
But who I was before I met you?
βAnd then the sun took a step back, the leaves lulled themselves to sleep, and autumn awakened."
-Raquel Franco
-Charles Bukowski, "cancer," from Come On In!
Marguerite Duras, from The Easy Life
11/08. Got drenched while coming back home
Never loved rain more than today.
β Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to VΓ©ra
The movie in my mind is blue-- As June runs into warm July I think of little else but you.
- from June to December : Summer Villanelle
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Lath
βI opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didnβt. I just watched. Paralyzed.β
-Khaled Hosseini, The kite runner
"That was a long time ago, but itβs wrong what they say about the past, Iβve learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out. Looking back now, I realize I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty-six years".
-Khaled Hosseini, The kite runner
The most toughest part in any relation is give up,giving up on that person you once gave the world to. You stop giving explanation, you stop expecting things and even though you want to you just stop yourself from going near that person because you know doesn't matter how much you love them or how many times you forgive them, when you will leave because of the pain they cause you they will not even stop you. Their's some silence in the conversation and some words behind the silence which you both don't listen to anymore or don't tend to listen. Sometimes your heart wants to give them the explanation, wants to tell them each and every thing running through your mind but... But you don't cause you know it will not change a single thing so you backspace the whole paragraph and let them be in peace and that's my friend is the most broken part.
It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.
-Maud Hart Lovelace,Β Betsy-Tacy and Tib
"π΄ππ π‘βππ, πππ πππππ¦ πππβπ‘, πππ¦ ππππππ π½π’ππ"
-πΉ.ππππ‘π‘ πΉππ‘π§ππππππ
Her world was the colour of petals :
Pale white and pink and softly glowing
-Neil Gaimon, Cinnamon
The fact that no one knows where I am is my only happiness. If only I could prolong this forever! It would be far more just than death. I am empty and futile in every corner of my being, even in my unhappiness.
-Franz Kafka, Letters to Feliceβ
Hands are unbearably beautiful. They hold on to things, they let things go.
- Mary Reufle
You know the feeling when you are scrolling and you found one poetry or quote and it hits you so hard like those are the words you want to scream, that is the feeling you are getting, you want to express yourself but you never found the right words and when you saw those lines you found your pieces in it
Hearts are breakable, and I think even when you heal, you're never what you were before.