Please take a moment to read this:
کہتا ہوں وہی بات سمجھتا ہوں جسے حق
نہ اَبلہِ مسجد ہوں، نہ تہذیب کا فرزند
I am a man of grief.
I carry certain memories with me, some of them mine, some belonging to the world. I carry my own pain, and the pain I have seen in others the kind that has no name, and the kind people learn to hide so well that no one thinks to ask.
Still, I have a dream.
A small one, perhaps, but it has refused to die. I hope that one day people will breathe as freely as they were meant to, that no man will have to spend his life merely trying to survive what another man has done to him. And where I can, I want to help. If someone is lost, I want to leave a light somewhere on his road. If someone is hungry for kindness, I want to give what little I have. There is enough suffering in this world without adding to it.
I am not Karl Marx, nor Tolstoy, nor Hugo. I have written no books to trouble an age, led no people, founded no movement. I am only one man, carrying what I can carry. But I cannot look upon suffering and call it someone else's affair. If there is something I can mend, however small, I would rather mend it than walk past.
I also hope that those who have brought misery upon others will not escape it forever that the hands which made this chaos will, in time, be made to answer for it. Perhaps that is an old hope. Perhaps men have been waiting for such justice since they first learned to suffer.
I am an emotional man. I have never learned the art of feeling little. I remember too much. I grieve for things I cannot mend, for people I have never known, for lives broken in places I will never see.
Perhaps that is a burden.
Perhaps it is also the reason I must remain.
So I carry my memories.
I carry my grief.
I carry a little hope.
And for all that has been lost, for all that remains uncertain
I am alive.
If you’re no longer interested in someone, let them know. Slowly distancing yourself, ignoring calls, and giving half-hearted responses really hurt more than simply being honest and upfront.
"They're using you". Actually, they're receiving genuine love from me while they play themselves because one thing about life, is that it always catches up to you sooner or later. I'll never regret the kindness, effort, & love I pour out.
10/10 would recommend.
Living alone will make you stop listening to others' nonsense and start listening to that soul inside your body.
You'll know what you really want.
You'll find what you truly search in life.
Delayed grief is dangerous. You don’t cry. You’re numb and you move on like nothing significant happened. You keep suppressing everything until the day it finally escapes and when it does it's like a dam bursting, flooding your mind and heart, making it difficult to cope.