jiyageoxge

[jiyageoxge]

Whoever said that loss gets easier with time was a liar. Here's what really happens: The spaces between the times you miss them grow longer. Then, when you do remember to miss them again, it's still with a stabbing pain to the heart. And you have guilt. Guilt because it's been too long since you missed them last.

- Kristin O'Donnell Tubb, The 13th Sign

[jiyageoxge]

that overwhelming feeling when packing everything to move to another city while still feeling like you left something behind

[jiyageoxge]

Harshita Jhawar

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“…to go on burning in dignity and silence.”

— Albert Camus, from A Happy Death

[jiyageoxge]

I am sitting at my kitchen table waiting for my lover to arrive with lettuce and tomatoes and rum and sherry wine and a big floury loaf of bread in the fading sunlight. Coffee is percolating gently, and my mood is mellow. I have been very happy lately, just wallowing in it selfishly, knowing it will not last very long, which is all the more reason to enjoy it now. I suppose life always ends badly for almost everybody. We must have long fingers and catch at whatever we can while it is passing near us.

Tennessee Williams, Notebooks

[jiyageoxge]

hey (with the intention of watching the moon together)

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Stéphane Mallarmé, Collected Poems and Other Verse : The Afternoon of a fawn.

[jiyageoxge]

I cannot express how much I adore dappled shadows formed by sunlight in paintings and photography and in real life

[jiyageoxge]

In many Muslim cultures, when you want to ask them how they’re doing, you ask: in Arabic, Kayf haal-ik? or, in Persian, Haal-e shomaa chetoreh? How is yourhaal? What is this haal that you inquire about? It is the transient state of one’s heart. In reality, we ask, “How is your heart doing at this very moment, at this breath?”

When I ask, “How are you?” that is really what I want to know.

I am not asking how many items are on your to-do list, nor asking how many items are in your inbox. I want to know how your heart is doing, at this very moment. Tell me. Tell me your heart is joyous, tell me your heart is aching, tell me your heart is sad, tell me your heart craves a human touch. Examine your own heart, explore your soul, and then tell me something about your heart and your soul.

Tell me you remember you are still a human being, not just a human doing. Tell me you’re more than just a machine, checking off items from your to-do list. Have that conversation, that glance, that touch. Be a healing conversation, one filled with grace and presence.

Put your hand on my arm, look me in the eye, and connect with me for one second. Tell me something about your heart, and awaken my heart. Help me remember that I too am a full and complete human being, a human being who also craves a human touch.

— Omid Safi, The Disease Of Being Busy

[jiyageoxge]

college song. sleeping through lectures. ₹10 samosas. cavin's chocolate milkshake. hostel fun. presentations and workshops. club activities. volunteering. food stalls. late night notes. pandemic. online classes. 11:59 pm deadlines. colour coded outfits. OAT dance. fried rice and paratha rolls. culturals. intolerable veyil. sip-sip and softies. OOTB. juju and momos. random smiles. silly conversations. unforgettable friends.

[jiyageoxge]

If you love literature, watch Gilmore Girls, listen to Taylor Swift, click pretty pictures and drink coffee, we are friends.

[jiyageoxge]

Wear red and just be silent, don’t even whisper by yourself; you will see that you will be heard easily because red always speaks on behalf of you. By wearing red, you give your tongue and voice to red colour.

- Mehmet Murat Ildan

[jiyageoxge]

we should treat love as something to be built rather than found

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Too shy to say, but I hope you stay.

[jiyageoxge]

You're allowed to miss the people who were bullets to you, but you're not allowed to let them shoot you again.

[jiyageoxge]

And just like that, you're gone.

Like a forgotten memory. An obscure photograph. An abandoned love letter. An unwritten eulogy.

[jiyageoxge]

For some I am maybe just another face, for others just a name, for a little fraction of people I might be one of those who come and go but for myself, I am still a mystery, a mystery I'm trying to decipher everyday.