Enada

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[Enada @Zaf_tig]

@WilliamsKay_Kay Congratulations 🥰

[positivity moon @arrtnem]

You sit there holding opposite pieces like hot metal.

One of the ugliest examples is love itself.

You can love someone and not like who you become around them.

You can know they care and know they are not safe.

You can be wanted and still feel unseen.

You can have chemistry and still have no peace.

That drives people insane because they were taught love should simplify things. Love should be the answer. Love should clarify. Then real life hands you a person who feels like home and danger in the same breath, and suddenly you understand why so many people stay too long. They’re not stupid. They’re trying to solve an equation that hurts because both sides are real.

Same with yourself.

You can be proud of how far you’ve come and embarrassed it took you this long.

You can know your trauma shaped you and know you’ve used it as an excuse.

You can be soft and mean. Generous and selfish. Loyal and avoidant. Full of love and still capable of neglect. Most people spend years trying to become one thing. Real adulthood is noticing you are a crowd.

That’s the part that stings when you say “fuuuuuuuck I hate when two things are true at once.” You’re not talking about logic. You’re talking about the emotional labor of not flattening reality just to get through the day.

The internet trains the opposite. Everything becomes one thing. Good. Bad. Icon. Villain. Healing. Toxic. Red flag. Green flag. It gives people the fantasy that reality can be sorted into clean little bins and then your nervous system will finally rest.

It won’t.

Real life is heavier because it keeps refusing the bins.

Your mother can be loving and impossible.

Your ex can be wounded and still a liar.

Your job can be a blessing and a slow death.

Your city can be exciting and lonely.

You can be deeply loved and still not okay.

There’s no way around that except getting bigger inside.

That’s what I think emotional strength really is. Not optimism. Not detachment. Not “good vibes.” Just the capacity to stand in the middle of contradiction without immediately grabbing the nearest simple lie to save yourself from the discomfort.

A room at 22:48. Window black. You sitting on the floor because the bed feels too official somehow. Phone face down. One thought circling: I miss them. Another thought right behind it: they were hurting me. Neither thought cancels the other. You let both sit there. You don’t make a speech. You don’t force closure. You just breathe in the unbearable little gap between them.

That gap is adulthood more than almost anything else I know.

You keep living. You keep carrying both things. Some days one is heavier. Some days the other. Some days they balance in a way that almost feels like peace, and then the next morning one small trigger makes the whole system tilt again.

Nothing wrong with you.

That’s just what happens when reality refuses to make itself easy enough for the human heart.

You can love and leave.

You can forgive and remember.

You can be broken and still responsible for what you do next.

You can understand someone completely and still decide they don’t get to stay.

That’s the curse. That’s the freedom. That’s the thing nobody tells you when you’re young and still think truth arrives one at a time.

[positivity moon @arrtnem]

It’s one of the worst feelings because your brain is built to want one villain, one answer, one clean line to stand on.

Two things being true at once ruins the fantasy of clarity.

You want to say they loved you. You want to say they hurt you. Life says yes. Both.

You want to say your parents did their best. You want to say their best still cut you open in places you’re finding years later. Life says yes. Both.

You want to say you’re grateful. You want to say you’re miserable. Life says yes. Both.

You want to say you’re healing. You want to say you’re still angry enough to burn the room down if someone says the wrong thing in the wrong tone. Life says yes. Both.

That’s what makes it unbearable.

One truth is easy to carry. One truth lets you build a personality. It gives you a script. It tells you whether to stay or leave, forgive or hate, relax or panic. Two truths make you stand there with your hands full and nowhere to put anything. Two truths make you feel split down the middle, like your own chest has become a courtroom and both lawyers are right.

You can feel it in tiny moments. 01:16, kitchen light on, fridge humming, one hand on the counter because you’re more tired than you want to admit. You’re replaying a conversation that should be over by now. You’re trying to decide how to feel, which is already a losing game. Your brain wants a verdict. Instead it gets complexity.

They were kind to me.

They also made me feel small.

I miss them.

I’m safer without them.

I want more from life.

I’m exhausted by the effort it takes to build it.

There’s no satisfying emotion for that. No neat reaction. No clean pose to strike.

People love simple feelings because simple feelings are social. Everyone knows what to do with “I’m heartbroken.” Everyone knows what to do with “I’m furious.” You can make a playlist for those. You can text your friend. You can post a little quote and get sympathy.

Try saying “I’m devastated and relieved.”

Try saying “I forgive them and I never want to see them again.”

Try saying “I know this is good for me and I still hate every second of it.”

That’s where language starts to fail. That’s where you start pacing instead of talking.

A lot of adult pain is just this. Not tragedy. Not catastrophe. Contradiction.

You get older and realize maturity is not becoming certain. Maturity is building enough internal space to hold two truths without forcing one of them to die just to calm yourself down.

That’s not noble. It’s brutal.

Because the body hates ambiguity. The body wants safety. Safety often arrives disguised as certainty. Pick a side. Name the villain. Lock the story. Call them evil. Call yourself innocent. Call it fate. Call it a lesson. Call it anything that turns the blur into a border.

Two things being true at once keeps the border smeared.

You loved them. They were wrong for you.

You had a good childhood. You were lonely in it.

You’re talented. You waste yourself.

You’re trying hard. You avoid the exact work that would change your life.

The double truth is where the shame lives too, because it makes you feel inconsistent. Weak. Messy. Indecisive. You start judging yourself for not being able to settle into one pure emotion. You think, why can’t I just hate them. Why can’t I just be grateful. Why can’t I just move on. Why can’t I just trust the choice I made.

Because your life is not a slogan. That’s why.

Most of the deepest pain doesn’t come from one truth crushing you. It comes from being stretched between truths that both have a pulse.

That’s why breakups hurt so long. The person was not all bad. That’s why family is complicated. They were not all cruel. That’s why work drains you. You can be lucky and still be dying inside. That’s why healing feels insulting sometimes. You can be getting better and still be grieving the version of you that got broken in the first place.

No clean ending. No pure emotion. No one sentence that puts the whole thing to bed.

[Elon Musk @elonmusk]

This is real explanation

[Asanwa.sol @Chizitere_xyz]

Modern women obsession with "soft life" and "princess treatment" has made a whole generation of women completely blind to the brutal reality of what it actually takes for a man to provide that.

You are demanding a man be endlessly romantic, available 24/7, and constantly planning aesthetic dates, while he is literally in the trenches fighting a ruthless economy to build the very empire you want to rest in.
​You cannot demand the spoils of war and then complain that the soldier is too tired to entertain you when he finally gets home. We want the absolute financial security of a conqueror, but we expect him to have the carefree personality and infinite free time of a golden retriever. A man cannot simultaneously be at peace and at war. If he is building your fortress, you have to give him the grace to be exhausted

[positivity moon @arrtnem]

They will find it a little hot, honestly, that you’re capable of metaphorically ripping someone’s head off and then making soup.

Because what is more endearing than a person who will hold your face with shaking hands and also burn the world down if someone hurts you on purpose.

The violent part of you is not about breaking plates and screaming all the time. It’s about capacity. It’s about having enough fire in you to say “no” and mean it. To walk away. To block. To disappoint people who were banking on your silence. To ruin the storyline where you’re always the understanding one, the forgiving one, the one who apologizes first.

People forget this: a girl with no anger is a girl with no brakes.

She will go along with anything. End up anywhere. Be used up by anyone who can tell a good story about how hurt they are. They will call her “angel” while chewing through her time and body. The angry part of you is the one that eventually stands up and says, no more volunteering as tribute.

That’s what the right person will love.

Not just the way you’re sweet with waiters and stray cats. Not just how you tuck blankets under your friends’ chins when they fall asleep on your couch. But how your eyes go flat when someone crosses a non-negotiable. How your voice gets very calm when you say “we’re done here.” How you will never, ever let them drown without grabbing their hand, but you will also never pretend the water isn’t rising.

To everyone else, that looks scary. “Crazy.” “Overly dramatic.”

To someone who understands you, it looks like proof you’re alive.

One day you’ll be sitting on a couch with that person, talking about something stupid at 21:09, and you’ll say, half joking, “I’m actually a very angry, violent girl inside,” and instead of flinching they’ll smirk and go, “I know. That’s part of why I trust you.”

And you’ll realize the thing you spent years hiding is the same thing that makes you impossible to replace.

You’re not a sweet girl with a flaw.

You’re a soft soul with teeth. The right person will find that not just endearing, but safe.

[positivity moon @arrtnem]

adult life right there.

Two things can be true at once, and your brain hates it because it wants a villain and a hero. It wants clean lines. It wants “I’m right, they’re wrong.” It wants relief.

Instead you get this:

I love you.
You hurt me.

I understand why you did that.
It still wasn’t okay.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come.
I’m still not where I want to be.

I miss them.
They’re not good for me.

I’m grateful.
I’m exhausted.

It feels like a glitch in the system. Like your chest can’t process holding two opposing weights at the same time. You want to drop one. You want to simplify. You want to flatten the story into something easier to carry.

Reality doesn’t care about your need for simplicity.

The reason it hurts so much is because when two things are true at once, you lose the comfort of certainty. You don’t get to fully blame. You don’t get to fully justify. You don’t get to fully detach. You have to sit in the gray space where nuance lives, and nuance is heavy.

It’s easier to say “they’re terrible” than “they’re flawed and I still care.”
It’s easier to say “I’m fine” than “I’m coping and also quietly not okay.”
It’s easier to say “this was a mistake” than “this taught me something and also cost me something.”

When two truths exist together, you’re forced to grow.

Not in a motivational poster way. In an uncomfortable way. In the way where your identity shifts because you can’t cling to a simple narrative anymore.

You can love someone and still leave.
You can forgive someone and still not trust them.
You can be strong and still feel fragile.
You can choose yourself and still grieve what you gave up.

The mind wants one headline.

Life gives you a paragraph.

Part that makes it even worse: sometimes both truths demand action in opposite directions.

You want to reach out.
You need to stay away.

You want to defend yourself.
You also see how you contributed.

You want to hold on.
You know you have to let go.

That tension feels like it’s tearing you in half. Because no matter what you choose, you’ll betray one of the truths.

That’s the grief.

You don’t just lose a person or a situation. You lose the version of reality where everything made sense.

Quiet upside, even if you don’t want to hear it.

The ability to hold two truths at once without collapsing into black-and-white thinking is emotional maturity. It’s painful, but it’s powerful. It means you’re not living in denial. It means you’re not flattening people into cartoons. It means you’re capable of complexity.

And complexity is lonely sometimes.

Because it means you can’t join the easy narratives. You can’t just rage. You can’t just romanticize. You can’t just detach. You see the layers. You feel the layers. You carry the layers.

It’s exhausting.

Still, I’d rather be someone who can say:

“This broke me and it built me.”

Than someone who needs the world to be simple to survive it.

Two things being true at once isn’t the problem.

The problem is that your heart wants one answer, and reality hands you two.

And you have to live anyway.

[Chi @__Poisonivyyy]

Once i mentally separate myself from a situation you'll never get the same me again. I'm somebody you gotta do right by the first time around because my mental detachment doesn't allow reconnection. Especially because at my age it's hard to make sense out of another grown person trying to play in my face, I can't connect those dots.

[Nandi 🤍💜🤍 @pallnandi]

Some of you are building your entire relationship mindset off social media lies, and it’s costing you real connection. Today let’s put a few of them to rest.

Ready? Let’s start with the most popular ones.

Walk with me. A 🧵

[Libriscent @libriscent]

nobody talks enough about the beauty of feeling completely certain in love. no second-guessing, no anxious wondering, no constant seeking of reassurance. just a deep, unwavering sense of security – knowing you're wanted, knowing you're valued, and knowing you're enough. that kind of love is a sanctuary, a safe haven where you can be your true self, without fear of judgment or rejection. that kind of love is everything.

[positivity moon @arrtnem]

That spot is hell because you can’t even lie to yourself anymore. You know the pattern down to the minute. You know the exact moment it starts, like 10:42 when your brain says “just a quick scroll” and your hand obeys before you finish the sentence. You know you procrastinate, you know you get avoidant, you know you turn into a version of you that talks big at noon and folds at night. You can name it, diagnose it, joke about it, even warn people around you like “hey I do this thing,” and none of that stops you from doing it. Self awareness becomes this sad little spectator sport. You sit there watching yourself choose the same bad door again, and the worst part is you are not surprised. You are just tired.

And then discipline shows up in your head like some clean, sharp person who would never live like this, and you start hating yourself for not being them yet. But it is not that you don’t want to change. It is that change asks for boring repetition when your nervous system is trained on relief. The flaw is familiar. The flaw is warm. The flaw lets you keep your identity without risking failure. Fixing it means waking up at 6:07 and doing the thing when it feels pointless, when nobody claps, when your body is heavy and your mind is making deals. So you stay in the middle, smart enough to suffer, not steady enough to escape, carrying your own mirror around like a punishment.

[Lukas Not Podolski @OtitoNosike]

If someone sends you a message, if someone wrests a moment out of this hellishly busy, always-spinning chamber we call life just to check in on you, to ask how you’re doing, you may not fully grasp what a blessing that is.

People don’t care that much. I kid you not. Most of us are swallowed by our own troubles, preoccupied with survival, running on fumes. A thought of you may pass someone’s mind for a fleeting second, but for them to refuse to let it drift away, for them to elevate that passing thought into actual words, into a message crafted with intention, that is not common. That is not casual. That is care.

And genuine care, my friends, is rare. Rarer than we admit.

So when you find someone who remembers you in the midst of their storms and schedules, someone who reaches toward you instead of inward, cherish such a person. They are offering you something the world is steadily forgetting how to give—especially when you are ordinary: attention, tenderness, and the quiet dignity of being thought of.

[Enada @Zaf_tig]

@Munalozy Thanks 😊

[Enada @Zaf_tig]

@Munalozy Lost my brother. My phone accidentally recorded the night I got the news via call and I stumbled on the recording a year later, that was the day I actually mourned him.

[Enada @Zaf_tig]

@Munalozy @MarinatedTurks 😂😂😂😂

[Enada @Zaf_tig]

@Munalozy @MarinatedTurks Lol..thank God it was only 5minutes😂

This is actually how I grew up, eating with family...I still wait for my sister and her husband whenever I visit them😂

[OurFaveOnlineDoc 🇬🇧 🇳🇬 @OurFavOnlineDoc]

Write that down. And don’t ever forget it.

[Enada @Zaf_tig]

@Munalozy 😂😂😂you never see anything

[Anticommie @QueenAnticommie]

This is spot on and hysterical

[Enada @Zaf_tig]

@Matt_Pinner Ghost rider