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I have two thoughts before touching someone’s hands. Are they soft? I hope not, not too soft. Because four years ago, I fell into a hole, so as soon as they touch, I wonder if they’re strong enough to help pull me to the top, and are they cold? God, I hope so… Because mine are so cold that anytime someone touches them, they ask me if something’s wrong. I know that most people have walls, but I just don’t think mine are the same
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Recently My friend’s mother died and it made my intensely worried about my parents. Never experienced this kind of anxiety ever. As you grow, your worries keep growing too. May Allah keep everone’s parents safe.

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Our place.


I will never take the same place where we met.

A place full of memories - replaced by regret.


I never want to see the same place where we used to be.

Until the day you left me, when I thought we’re still happy.


I don’t want to see my place being occupied by a stranger.

The exact same place where I hope we could last forever.

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I am a woman with power to make a decision.

I am both right and wrong but somehow can make a conclusion.


Most think I am weak, they try to lend a helping hand.

I accept it with appreciation but please know that I also can stand.


Trust me I can survive.

Life is a battle, I finally learn how to drive.


I am a woman, people expect me to be gentle.

What I’m trying to say to the world, I am a woman… please don’t treat me little.

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Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

I read and am liberated. I acquire objectivity. I cease being myself and so scattered. And what I read, instead of being like a nearly invisible suit that sometimes oppresses me, is the external world’s tremendous and remarkable clarity, the sun that sees everyone, the moon that splotches the still earth with shadows, the wide expanses that end in the sea, the blackly solid trees whose tops greenly wave, the steady peace of ponds on farms, the terraced slopes with their paths overgrown by grape-vines.
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I finally see the world without the pretty faces up front.

Without the perfect outfits, and foods, or gadgets they bought.


I finally see the world of beautiful word creations.

Sharing inspirations.

Random word combinations.

Brutally honest confessions.


I have never had a clearer vision of the world like this before.

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Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
It was in that moment’s flight between the picture and her canvas that the demons set on her who often brought her to the verge of tears and made this passage from conception to work as dreadful as any down a dark passage for a child. Such she often felt herself – struggling against terrific odds to maintain her courage; to say: ‘But this is what I seee; this is what I see’, and so to clasp some miserable remnant of her vision to her breast, which a thousand forces did their best to pluck from her.
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