Origin, Forms of Corruption that Negatively Affects Public Life, Causes and Consequences
by Raximova Dilshoda Baxritdinovna Samarqand | Xidirov Khoshim Ibodullaevich "Origin, Forms of Corruption that Negatively Affects Public Life, Causes and Consequences"
Published in International Journal of Trend in Scientific Research and Development (ijtsrd), ISSN: 2456-6470, Special Issue | International Research Development and Scientific Excellence in Academic Life , March 2021,
Paper Url: https://www.ijtsrd.com/humanities-and-the-arts/sociology/38736/origin-forms-of-corruption-that-negatively-affects-public-life-causes-and-consequences/raximova-dilshoda-baxritdinovna-samarqand
callforpaperchemistry, chemistryjournal, openaccessjournalofchemistry
This article describes the origins, forms, types, causes and consequences of corruption, as well as the fact that it covers all areas as a negative evil in society.
Okay to add onto the last post (and i’m gonna try not to make this a vent because I don’t like venting on here) I feel like a lot of people think that those who are seeking a diagnosis or are just generally worried about something to do with their health it’s all ‘oh they just want attention’ or ‘it’s health anxiety, they’re just being dramatic :/‘ which I find ridiculous quite frankly because:
1. For them to have to fake something like that for attention is, indeed, quite a serious thing! But you don’t know for a fact that they’re faking anything, so you just. Have to TRUST them. (Which is especially crushing when people think you’re faking when 1. You have a history of being trustworthy and 2. It’s coming from people that really should trust you!)
and 2. Buckaroo nobody knows you like you do. You feel pain, nobody else can feel your pain. If you’re hurting it’s not up to anyone else to tell you you’re not I promise. It’s so frustrating to feel feelings or to be hurt or to say/do something and have someone else decide what you’re thinking or feeling. It’s infantilising, and it’s condescending, and it’s just generally a horrible thing to have to go through. You’re not alone in that, and I want you to know what you’re feeling is valid and it’s real and you decide how to feel it because nobody else can! :D
If you want a diagnosis, no matter how big or how small the reason, then go for it! If you don’t, sure! If you’re worried about your health, that’s valid and you deserve to be listened to.
I see your naiad in a shining, frozen form in my mind’s eye. She’s suspended there, timeless, beautiful, graceful, capricious, a force to be reckoned with. On this morning, she is gentle: the current moves around her, and she is freedom incarnate. Beads of water splash around her torso as it sloshes up her navel, disperses in a spray around her abdomen. The curve of her waist is a rushing, welcome relief for the water flowing around her. It folds into the dips and hollows with a gentle burble as it dissipates. Her skin is flecked with silver and gold pearls: the beaded droplets of the rivers’ spray shining in the morning sunlight. She is bright: a silhouette against the morning light. A tide pool forms in her wake, wets the tips of her hair, swirls in small hollows. They mirror the divots of flesh on either side of the base of her spine. She is alive, she is riveting, she is unencumbered, unburdened by the river’s pull.
She’s frozen there, mid-motion. One leg lifted to press forward, deeper into the oncoming tide, swelling the water around the top of her thigh. The curve of her cheek is lifted in a smile, her fingers are raking carelessly through her hair. Her porcelain skin is flecked with thousands of droplets awaiting their moment in the sun. The dip in the curve of her spine slopes down into a curve that tucks under and flares outward again. Her abdominals have tightened against the push of the current, her toes dig deep into the silt and sediment beneath her feet.
All at once, time starts again. I witness this phenomena you describe. I see her turn and create an entirely new profile against the morning light, a glistening, fractal thing. The curve of a full mouth, the patient unfurling of arms as they extend out, call me to her. Laughter and exhilaration dance like twin flames within her eyes, I am thunderstruck, tied to her like the current flowing around her waist, kissing the underside of curves we will not name.
Just like you, as I reach her outstretched hand- brushing fingertip to hers- I watch her disperse in a cloud of wings. They brush against my flesh as she flutters away, and I feel the sensation of hundreds of pairs of heavy-lidded bedroom eyes fluttering eyelashes against my naked skin. There is laughter on the wind as she disperses, and the current hits me like a hammer to the gut in her wake. Just like the Fey to play such tricks. But I still hear her siren call.
I read your post, I couldn’t miss the message there. Theirs, not yours. And her response- the tennis match, sealed with a kiss. I am burning, burning for you deep within. I’m so sorry—there are so many things I want to say, and none of them are my place to speak.
“Can’t win for losing,” you once said. I would fix this if I could, I would spare you if I had that power. I’m sorry if it bothers you that I noticed. I just couldn’t ignore it. So many reactions to that one small exchange- this pettiness. I refrained from reacting to the reply for your sake, but I’ve never itched to ‘like’ something more. So many things I should not and will not say, but perhaps you know the fire burning in my eyes right now, have witnessed it before all the same.
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