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so when a Black kid gets kidnapped and gets tortured by a group of White people it doesn’t make the news but if a White kid were to get kidnapped…it would make the national news.

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hate doesn’t just happen. war doesn’t just happen. And we are definitely not “right” enough to kill or bring pain to anyone… // Hina Syeda

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#SelfLoveSunday

5 Powerful Self-Love Practices To Improve Your Mental Health

1. Meditation - making time to be present with ourselves. Being present with ourselves during meditation allows us time to disconnect from the illusion of “problems” and gain perspective. A regular meditation practice has countless benefits which all contribute to positive changes in our state of mind.

2. Exercise - moving into the body. The body is the subconscious mind, therefore the problems we experience in the mind can be worked out through the body. Exercise is a great way of releasing the energy stored in pent-up emotions - once this energy leaves the body we feel better mentally, physically, spiritually and emotionally.

3. Love - doing what we love. One of the most significant contributing factors to poor mental health is doing something we hate for money. Sacrificing our whole lives just to pay bills is an existence, we came here to live which involves doing the things we love. Life’s too long to do what we hate every day and too short to miss out on what we love.

4. Community - spending time with people we love. We take on energy from those we spend time with, this is why we must be highly selective when it comes to deciding who we want around us. Surrounding ourselves with people who love us and support our growth will improve our mental health and encourage us to succeed in other areas of our lives.

5. Nature - filling the subconscious with peace. The man-made environments we live in can interfere with the relationship we have with ourselves. This is why it’s absolutely essential we disconnect from technology regularly to tune back into ourselves. There may be no wifi in nature, but we’re guaranteed to find a better connection.

The root of all suffering is a lack of self-love.

Peace & positive vibes.

Follow me on Instagram for daily positive affirmations <3

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snape: i will teach you how to BOTTLE FAME

snape: BREW GLORY

snape: and make a MILKSHAKE that brings all the BOYS to the YARD

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1. Drink water 2. Take a break from social media 3. Think of 3 things you’re grateful for 4. Love yourself 5. Read a book 6. Practice self forgiveness 7. Write down your goals 8. Be honest with yourself 9. Don’t hesitate to tell someone how you feel 10. Take a nap

aftertheam,  writing prompt #71: Write 5-10 things you can do to make yourself happier every day. (via wnq-writers)

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Hermione: Here is my wall of inspirational people.

Harry: Is that a picture of you?

Hermione: Yes. I am big enough to admit that I am often inspired by myself.

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At first it started with nights on the floor, begging for any god to make me feel something other than the hurt. The sadness consumed me and I felt the heartbreak of thousands of different lives. I have always been romantic with my word choices huh? Then it became journaling and waking up each day asking myself “what do I want to do today.” I started to wash my sheets and clean out my closet. I listened to music that made me feel alive and jump up and down, acting like there wasn’t a care in the world. But eventually my sheets got dirty again and the jumping made me exhausted. God, I was so exhausted. Take this how you will but not everyday will be a good day. Some are better than others and your heart is happy and content in the moment you are in. Some days you will be looking forward to tomorrow and not 100% in the now. And some days you will have darkness clouding your mind and you may seem like a lost cause but I swear to you this sadness isn’t forever. At the end of this all there is love, only love. Love will get you through, love will break you heart but then I swear, love will find you when it’s time again.

love is here and there but it’s always within you (via tthematics)

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It’s like carrying a rock. A massive rock. Everyone’s carrying their own rock. Some people’s are bigger, like mine, and some are smaller, and some grow and shrink and grow and shrink. And we’re all walking up the same hills and across the same fields, but the people with bigger rocks are falling over because of the weight. And the people with smaller rocks tell us to get back up. And to do it again. And again. And again. But that gets exhausting. I don’t want to carry this rock. And the people with smaller rocks tell me to just carry it because we’re all going over the same hills and across the same fields, and we’re all carrying rocks and I ain’t special. Other people with small rocks tell me to stop complaining because some people are falling so far behind because of the weight of their rocks and I don’t have a problem if that’s not me. But my arms are sore and feel like they’re about to come off and I’m tired. I’m so tired of carrying this bloody rock. I hate this rock. All I want to do is sleep and eat and sleep and eat and goodness gracious I’m so tired. And I don’t want to sleep because even when I sleep I’m plagued by this rock and I don’t want to eat because everything feels like rocks going down my throat. All I want to do is get rid of this rock. And no one is helping me or telling me how. 

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Collywobbles

My words gloop together, and I have to force them to come out of my mouth. They are thick, and ooze like toothpaste from a tube that has been covered with dry toothpaste. 

My hands shake and I tremble. It’s like someone’s shaking my hands really quickly. This is a never-ending, yet rushed handshake. 

My stomach bunches up, and while I am hungry, I have no room for food. Nothing feels right. 

My body doesn’t feel like my body. It doesn’t feel right. It feels like my skin is another layer of uncomfortable clothing that I should peel off with the rest of it. 

My heart feels like it’s going to leap from my chest at any given minute, and there’s no one there to hold it in place or catch it for me. I feel alone, sinking in a hole of misery that my mind has created. 

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It’s like a ferris wheel. 

At the bottom all you have is excitement for the top of the ferris wheel. The beautiful view is going to be the prettiest thing for miles, and you feel the sun on your already-burnt shoulders in anticipation for the envelope of warmth that’ll come from it. And suddenly, you don’t care that everything that goes up comes down, because that one up is enough for now. 

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Happy

I want to make myself happy.  I don’t have a clue when it’ll happen.  I don’t know where it’ll happen.  I don’t know why it’ll happen.  All I know is that I’m going to make it happen, and that’s all I should care about. 

And it’s going to be my own happy.  It’s not going to come from you,  and it’s not going to come from anything superficial.  It’s going to come with a contempt with myself and all that I surround me with.  And it’s going to raise me up so high I can only see clouds. 

And it’s not going to be a caught-in-between happy that comes once every while.  It’s going to be intense.  And the gaps in the middle will be few and far between. 

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Bucket

I have a bucket. It fills with all of my stress, anxiety, worries and insecurities. They all layer one on top of the other until my bucket is filling alarmingly, and holding it up is a chore. And everyone walks past with their buckets. They tell me how easy holding their buckets are, but they never show me how to hold it. Am I abnormal? Is there something wrong with me? My bucket fills to the brim and overflows. My arms shake violently trying to keep it up. More and more fills the bucket and more and more flows over the sides of the bucket onto the floor below. Nothing washes away. There are no taps, and no lids to this godforsaken bucket. And everyone telling me that I’m fine and I’m like everyone else because we all have buckets but can’t you see I can’t hold mine? My arms are shaking. I’m shaking. And I’m wasting all my effort into this fucking bucket that I can’t hold whydoihavethisbucketidon’twantitit’snotmine.

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Salvage

The day that I cut my hair, everything changed.

My hair was growing fast past my waist, the ends of the thin strands growing scraggly and frizzy. They were like frayed ends of rope- irreparable and tangled. I was so attached to the way that it would curl when it began to grow further than my bra strap, and the way that the ends were a lighter reddish colour than the roots. Something made me scared to cut it, though.

Something, however, told me something was unhealthy there. The ends grew dull, and the split ends were out of control. I couldn't tie it back into the braids that I loved without the ends sticking out like sore thumbs.

There were so many things that I tried to do. I would put oil in the ends of my hair to save the ends, and use a hair mask regularly. Nothing seemed to work to save the ends of my hair. It was unsalvageable.

I had seen girls on Instagram with their hair cut short, the length that I would have to cut it if I wanted to get rid of the ends. The day that I realised this was my cure was one of the best days of my life. Maybe I needed a change in my life, that wasn't just me purging out my closet every two weeks.

So I marked the date in my calendar, and when that date came, I cut my hair.

The long hair that I had prided myself with was gone, and in replacement was a sleek, shiny head of hair. The ends tickled my collarbone, and I knew that this was it.

Somehow, this change suited me better than my old hair did. And I loved it.

I walked out of the hairdressers feeling a tonne lighter than I had walking in, and I also realised that sometimes you have to cut things to make them better.

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Dress Shopping

Finding new friends is like going dress shopping for the ball. You have high expectations of what the dress should look like. It needs to have sequins and make people’s jaw drop as you walk past in it, but you also want to look classy and not like a five-year-old’s glittery art project.

Some of the dresses, you like.

There’s a white, sleek one that fits like a glove. But it accentuates the things you don’t like about your body. It goes back on the rack.

There’s a navy blue one, that vaguely reminds you of your school uniform. You try it on anyways, and even though it fits you perfectly, there’s something off about it. It goes back on the rack, too.  

There’s a red, daring dress that makes you scared to try it on. You pick it up, look it over like all the other dresses, and decide to try it on, even though you’re not in love with it. It fits, but is too risqué for the school dance. That, too, goes back on the rack.

It takes a few tries before you get to the right one. And it fits you perfectly. It makes you love the things about you that you normally dislike, and makes you look beautiful. On the border, but safe enough for you to find comfort in it.

This dress is simpler than you planned. There aren’t as many sequins as you had thought you were going to end up with, but you are pleasantly surprised. It’s the perfect combination of safe and dangerous.

And it fits you perfectly.

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Draco’s like snow, it’s cold and cruel to begin with, but it’s somehow beautiful, and you miss it when it’s not there. And if you hold it in your hands close enough and long enough, it changes. It melts.

J.K. Rowling (via jennamalfoy902)