Watching everyone tell you how much you’ve changed,how selfish you’ve become, because you no longer love them is a weird kind of satisfaction.
I love them,I always will love them,but I stopped loving them unconditionally,and obviously it meant I would no longer be a doormat which was absolutely not tolerable to them.
-nipuna
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i didn't fall in love; i sprinted toward you with a deliberate intention to embrace every part of you. falling implies chance, but loving you was a conscious choice, a journey pursued with open arms. it's a declaration that my love for you isn't a mere accident; it's a purposeful and unregrettable pursuit.
— @fiercethorns
“sprinting in love”
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And when someone's gone and you're the primary keeper of his memory ; letting go would be a kind of murder, wouldn't it?
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Mary Oliver, from Winter Hours: Prose, Prose-Poems, And Poems; “The Whistler,”
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you'd think these walls I've built
between us
are secure
but the slightest tap from you
and they crumble
every time
~i always allow you to hurt me
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“the lessons you are taught over and over again become more expensive every time you refuse to learn them.”
— iambrillyant
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solitude, it's this double-edged sword – on one side, there's the calm, the chance to hear your own heartbeat, but on the other, it's a dangerous dance with your deepest fears and unspoken truths. in the quiet, your mind becomes both ally and adversary, and the line between introspection and drowning in your thoughts blurs. solitude, it's a risky game of balance, where the danger lies in losing yourself within the silence.
@ fiercethorns | “silent danger”
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a cockroach sneaks into an art museum by judas h. ( @judas-redeemed ) image id in alt
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Songbird, 2023 🕊️
Pieces of hope for today, tomorrow, and the days after that
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