This feeling is almost too familiar. The abnormal silence of the world outside, the chaos within; the low count of good deeds but always being spread too thin. I take too many deep breaths. Somehow puffs of smoke fill my lungs. Death seems friendlier most days; life, not even close. 2023 has been my personal hell. I've grieved the death, and the journey to it, of some of my closest. 11 to be accurate and June seems to be the kid that enjoys frequently overwriting the blackboard; adding a number every week.
Overall, I seem to be doing okay. The usual social media addiction and closing off myself from the world is not too bad. Does anyone feel body dysmorphia, imposter syndrome, identity crisis and existential angst heighten? And no, I cannot keep blaming the retrograde for it.
I'm rain and storm and typhoons and thorns. How is the weather inside you?
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I do not want tomorrow to come. I think that’s why I sleep so late. The morning sun demands so much from me. My bed wants to spit me out and I cling to it for dear life. There are a list of things to do but I rather sit and listen to the low hum of my sad heart.
Dara Karadag
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Hiiii
Hello
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What do you answer?
I answer to no one. ☕
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You cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. This is your tragedy … because you understand them, and they do not understand you.
Daniel Saint
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in a room where only echoes linger
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my kink is when ppl actually care abt my feelings & what I have to say
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I watched the young,
living their dreams.
I watched the old,
conquering their fears.
And I saw myself, only existing
thoughtsincosmos
(via wnq-writers)
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Ease your soul here
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