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“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” - Maya Angelou
the snows of kilimanjaro by ernest hemingway // little women (2019) // little women by louisa may alcott // the book thief by markus zusak // emily (2022) // dead poets society (1989) // o me! o life! by walt whitman // tick, tick… boom! (2019)
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Ibn Jawzi (رحمه الله) said:
"Understand that life has occasions. One time it is poverty, and another time it is wealth. Once it is honour, and another it is humiliation. Happy is he who remains grounded in each situation."
• [Sayd Al- Khatir p. 282]
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who else up hurkleing their durkleing
#me
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Do you have any advices to stop feeling like you're never doing enough?
take things slowly
set goals that you believe you will achieve in the short term, this will give you confidence.
stop giving importance to other people's opinions and start valuing yourself more.
stop procrastinating and start organizing your days
do things that make you feel good or discover new hobbies
write a diary to know yourself better
accept your flaws or what you don't like about yourself and improve it a little bit every day.
establish a healthier daily routine than the one you have now.
be aware that your thoughts dictate your reality and if you constantly think that you are not enough, then change it, start having a more positive internal dialogue.
practice meditation
write down qualities that you like about yourself or that you would like to have and start adopting them in your life.
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“I’m not fascinated by people who smile all the time. What I find interesting is the way people look when they are lost in thought, when their face becomes angry or serious, when they bite their lip, the way they glance, the way they look down when they walk, when they are alone and smoking a cigarette, when they smirk, the way they half smile, the way they try and hold back tears, the way when their face says they want to say something but can’t, the way they look at someone they want or love… I love the way people look when they do these things. It’s… beautiful.”
— Clemence Poésy
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as a girl who is literally just a girl i am always yearning. always longing always missing always wearing my heart on my sleeve. always feeling like my heart is on the verge of exploding. the sight of the sun makes me cry. anyway
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“I feel like I messed up” then try again next time “I feel like I’ll never get the chance to do better” there will always be the opportunity to try again “I want to do better” so try again “I’ve made this mistake so many times” good thing you will never run out of chances to try again “I’m scared I’ll never get what I want” you inevitably will if you continue trying again
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btw things or people leaving your life is the same as them clearing up space for other, better things to occupy your time instead. u will find what you are looking for no matter what. it will come. i love u
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so excited to spend less time wasted on my phone and start using it productively or not at all and picking up all the hobbies i complain about not having time for
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the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.
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Heterophemy (n.)
you asked me how my day was and i paused
what i wanted to say was 
that every sunset is different but every day is the same
and nostalgia holds my heart in its claws
and how i yearn for the smell of rain and wet leaves
the way campfires and sunlight and warm cement feel
the muffled cacophony of a party from another room
admiring the stars suspended above the trees
the hidden words behind an exchange of the eyes
scintillating light filtered through the trees from the skies
paying heed to changing colors and blooming flowers
straining to hear euphonious songs for the first time
when a loved one rests their head on my shoulder
the rasp of the crashing ocean and booming thunder
feeling the ground firm beneath your strides
dew drops at dawn (or frost when it’s colder)
warbling and whirling in the shower combined
my heap of journals drowning in empty lines
the stale yet ambrosial smell of aging books—
“fine. i’m doing just fine.”
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“The greatest mistake we make is living in constant fear that we will make one.”
— John C. Maxwell
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I was finally sent to the seaside for my health
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i was upset and you sat down next to me and i took it the wrong way (i’m sorry mom) you were trying to make me laugh but i thought you were just jabbing at me (i’m sorry mom) you asked why i was crying and i said it was your fault (i’m sorry mom) i lied (i’m sorry mom) you said you used to wish you had someone to hold you and touch you and make you laugh when you cried (i’m sorry mom) i never thought we were similar until then (i’m sorry mom) i can never tell you i’m sorry mom
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