i think waiting together is a love language. wait for the train with me, so we can talk a little longer. wait for dinner with me, we can slow dance in the kitchen. wait for me until i can talk after crying my eyes out, hold me, we will figure it out. wait for me when it gets rough, i know i can get through this (with you). wait for me in the car, this song is too good to not finish listening to it. wait for the first snow with me, cold red noses and bright eyes. lets wait for each other, i love you.

give me the kind of love that when you touch them with your cold hands, they gasp and pull you closer. that they give you warmth even at the cost of their own comfort. give me love that breathes on your chilly fingers, rubs them gently, holds them no matter what.

That's the thing about people who haven't been loved much..They think about every kind gesture, a slightest touch of fingers, kind smiles, random acts of love, intimacy in every small thing done. They find that love wherever they can cause it was never given to them freely. They don't ask for love, they search for it everywhere.

we all talk about the intimacy of eye contact but do you ever think about the intimacy of looking at someone's eyes while they're looking at something else-either because they're distracted or they're deliberately allowing you to have this moment to yourself or they know that it'll be too much to look back at you directly-and if so does it ever just make you go full crazy

Chai is a love language. Cut fruit is a love language. Peeling clementines is a love language. Giving your dupatta to someone when they're cold is a love language. Fresh jasmine is a love language. Gulab jamun is a love language.

being desi is listening to taylor swift and one direction and kpop to get yourself into everyone else's pop culture, but then hearing a song of your mothertongue on the radio and realizing that no other language can touch your soul like your own language.

Vincent Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would help him to become happy. People though he was mad and stupid as he was eating paint that was toxic, filled with lead and what not; never mind the fact that eating paint has no correlation to happiness.

Now I wonder whether Van Gogh was truly mad or sad. Perhaps he was at a point in life where even the craziest ideas like painting insides of your body yellow, made sense - to him

People fall in love, get hurt; people take drμgs, sometimes with the risk of overdosing. People still do it. Why?

Because there's always a hope - that things could get better ☀️

not to sound traumatized, but it feels unreal that someone can just miss you and want you around so often. I feel like every worry within me keeps repeating, "until when? until when?" and the people I love and that love me confirm, "as long as you'd like."

Kafka wrote "it would be better if you didn't come, since you'd only have to leave again" but our Faraz wrote "ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhane ke liye aa, aa phir se mujhe chor ke jane ke liye aa"

i want to go home. i will always want to go home. even when i am at home i want to go home. but i'm not really thinking of a place, it's more that feeling of everything finally being over, of seeing the light in the windows of your house on a cold night, of being safe, the relief of leaving a party you're not enjoying, like when you felt sick at school and they sent you home, or when you got upset at a sleepover and they called your parents. i want my mam to come get me. i want to go home.

"Can we?......"

"Can we what?......"

Can we find a way to make this work? Even when everything seems to be pulling us apart? It's like we are caught in a relentless tide , trying to hold onto each other while the current threatens to sweep us away. I've spent countless nights wondering how something that feels so right can end up being so complicated. Every laugh we shared , every moment that felt like it was just us against the world , now feels like a distant memory fading away.

It's hard , realising sometimes love isn't enough to overcome the obstacles life throws our way. Maybe it's time to accept that letting go isn't giving up , but rather acknowledging that some things are beyond our control.

And in this silent acceptance , i find myself asking , "were we ever really meant to be , or was it all just a beautiful dream?.

"what is the perfect human?"

"someone with flaws"

the intimacy of being tired together. a head on a chest while falling asleep to the thump thump thump of your love's heart. those delirious giggles you get directed at nothing in particular. to be wrapped in a cocoon of blankets on a cold winter's night, bodies as close and intertwined as humanly possible to keep warm. there's nothing i want more than to drift off in the arms of the one i love.

Sylvia Path said "When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn't want it, you cannot take it back. It's gone forever "

And Ahmed Faraz said "Dil bhi pagal hai ke uss shakhs se vabasta hai, jo kisi aur ka hone de na apna rakhey "

In english we say

"I loved him but lost him"

In Urdu we say

"dil ameer tha aur mukaddar gareeb tha , lakh koshish krke bhi kuch na kr ske ham , ghar bhi jalta raha or samandar bhi karib tha"

"And suddenly, my friends started telling me that I had changed. Suddenly, my desire to get up in the morning faded. My grades got lower. My room stayed messy. My followers unfollowed. My hair had split ends. My cheeks were the hills that tears would run over more and more. My imagination faded. Art wasn't fun anymore. I didn't care for the sweet company between hand and pencil. It took too much effort to read a book. My attention span weakened. My parents hated me. Life hated me. I hated me."