“there are versions of you that didn’t know better and deserved better, but hold a space of gratitude for those versions instead of resentment. you needed to be who you were in those moments to give you awareness of what you should accept and what you shouldn’t be accepting now.”

— iambrillyant

how tf am I rude if I'm not talking in the first place :/

My favorite forms of affection

Holding hands.

Resting their heads over my shoulder.

Lying on their lap or chest.

Kisses on the forehead.

Playing with my hair.

When they give me that look of admiration.

Them making me laugh.

Giving compliments.

Putting their arms around me.

Making me feel heard and seen without even trying.

Random hugs when words aren't needed.

When they remember the things I am passionate about.

Buying me food.

Them checking on me constantly.

When they respect my boundaries.

When they talk to me about things that reminds them of me.

When they speak their truth.

When they say they love me.

When they lift me up, support me and make me feel valuable and capable when I least believe in it.

My PIN number to this day is my second grade best friends birthday. There are people I don’t talk to anymore whose families are still in my prayers. There are shirts I wear to bed from exes of 8 years ago who are married now with kids. And I haven’t found a macaroni salad recipe better than my college boyfriend’s mom’s. Our lives are made up of so many people and when people become parts of our lives, some parts remain long after they leave. And in the same exact way, it’s comforting to know there are so many lives you’re still a part of that you have no idea about.

my soul is in love with yours, and i see nothing else.

fatimatuzzohraaa 

to all the bloggers who reblog,

to all the bloggers who create,

to all the bloggers who write,

to all the bloggers who share,

to all the bloggers who appreciate,

to all the bloggers who read,

to all the bloggers who encourage,

THANK YOU.

may you all be blessed with the smell of old books and coffee today

I dreamt — marvelous error! — that I had a beehive here inside my heart. And the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures.

Antonio Machado, from "Last night, as I was sleeping,” Times Alone: Selected Poems of Antonio Machado, trans. Robert Bly (Wesleyan University Press, 1983)

"ما فاتك لم يُخلق لك وما خُلِق لك لن يفوتك، فاطمأن."

What you missed was not created for you and what was created for you will not be missed, so be assured.

“happiness isn’t always an indication that everything in your life is perfect, or that things are necessarily flowing your way. sometimes, happiness is simply the choice to see the light in everything that you can, despite how imperfect or unclear your current situation may be.”

— iambrillyant

µεράκι

meraki  •  (me-ra-kee)  • Greek 

to do something with passion, with absolute devotion, with undivided attention

Unusual words with beautiful meanings

Peregrinate (verb) To travel or wander around from place to place.

Serendipity (noun) Finding something good without looking for it.

Nemophilist (noun) One who is fond of forest; A haunter of the woods.

Eudaimonia (noun) The contented happy state you feel when you travel.

Eleutheromania (noun) The intense desire for freedom.

Hireath (noun) A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was.

Idyllic (adj.) Like an idyll; extremely happy, peaceful, or picturesque. 

Clinomania (noun) Excessive desire to stay in bed. 

Seatherny (noun) the serenity one feels when listening to the chirping birds.

Eunoia (noun) beautiful thinking a balanced mind.

“The reason we hold onto someone for as long as we can, even when they’re not in our lives, is because they are a part of who we are. If we let them go, that part of us dies. And isn’t that what life is all about? Trying to survive at all costs? Even if it breaks our heart over and over again?”

18:20 - If we let them go, we think we die along with the memories too (moondustanddreams)

If someone cares about you, they won’t want to hurt you. Period.

I wonder when exactly it happened. When the cracks in the foundation turned into something we could no longer bridge with words or actions. When we started doing the bare minimum for each other and felt like it was enough. It was kind of validating, wasn't it? Liberating, in a way. The occasional checking in, the questions that were asked without any real intentions behind them. The guilt that was lifted off our shoulders every time we decided to swallow our pride. How are you? Fine. What have you been up to? Not much, you? How's work? Okay. We didn't ask because we cared, not for the past months.  We were following routines, a play, a dance we knew every step to. Both of us ignoring the truth we'd understood a while ago: we're not what we used to be and we will never be that to each other again. And at some point, we just stopped asking altogether. The more I think about it, the more I figure out that the breaking was no fixed point in time, but a process. There was no argument. No falling out - only the slow and painful realisation that I‘d been wrapping my fingers around something that was long gone. A shadow. A memory. A ghost.  I know what I would answer if you reached out to me again. How are you? Kind of sad. What have you been up to? Missing you and everything we used to be - what can we do to find our way back to each other? But you don't ask. And I don't ask, either.

radio silence / n.j.

If you want to know if you’re with the person you’re supposed to be with, look at how much you love yourself, not how much you love them.

Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights