khamakha

[khamakha]

Misfortune deserves understanding, not moralization.

Believe in God, but don’t weaponize "karma" against the suffering of others.

[khamakha]

"Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace."

- Oscar Wilde

[khamakha]

I love compassion. I don't care about your looks, your education or your background. But I'm always fascinated by people who are careful about the impact of their words on the hearts of others.

زبان ہونے کا مطلب یہ تو نہیں ہے میاں

نہیں جو بولنا ہے ، وہ بھی بولتے جائیں

Insaan ka pehla taaruf uski zubaan se Hota hai

اس لیے پوچھی تھی تجھ سے ہزاروں باتیں

کے میں تیرا حسن حسن بیاں تک دیکھوں

Not written by me-

[khamakha]

Is it really that hard to tell me I did well?

Now that I think about it, maybe it is. I was never the golden child. I was a broken mirror, always reflecting what I wasn’t. People around me stood on pedestals, receiving applause and love, while I was the utter failure. “You have the spirit, my child. If you try, you might win,” they said. So I painted again and again until the colors ran dry. I wrote until my palms were covered in ink. I read until the familiar words became strange. Still, I was a failure.

“Maybe you never tried. You’re just a lazy child,” they said.

Maybe I was. Maybe I am. Maybe laziness was always a part of me. Maybe when I was working till 3 AM, hammering words and sentences, I was still lazy. Maybe when I was running to be in front, to be better, to be the best, maybe I was just lazying around. Maybe I’ve always been lazy, even when I wasn’t.

“Look at them — they shine so bright. But what happened to you?”

I don’t know what happened. The last time I checked, my ink had run out. The colors lost their brightness. The flowers lost their fragrance. I don’t know what happened to me. I ask myself this every day. Maybe I was meant to be like this — faded and grey. Meant to be the spectator, never the spectacle. Always the shadow, never the flame.

I will always be the watcher, watching everyone else be the best, while I remain just good. Never the best. Never, never, never.

[khamakha]

people left, but the show must go on...

[khamakha]

she talks and i listen like it’s my favorite verse.

[khamakha]

The thread that connected us grew thinner with lies and disrespect. You didn’t even try to untangle the knot of misunderstanding—instead, you kept tangling the strands I was trying so hard to unravel. Now, as the threads are split apart, and the pain of longing pierces me like a needle🧵🪡.

[khamakha]

hello khamakha

[khamakha]

"one person's trash is another person's treasure" applies to humans too

[khamakha]

[khamakha]

I would have ripped out my heart and served it on a porcelain plate and you would have still blamed me for the blood stains.

[khamakha]

If You Go Away, Rod McKuen (English adaptation of "Ne me quitte pas" ("Don't leave me") by Jacques Brel)

[khamakha]

[khamakha]

Speaking

(Instagram: sarentries)

[khamakha]

I hope we hold ourselves more tightly and reduce the habits we hate about ourselves. Reduce that self-hate and the regrets of the lives we got ourselves into. The dukh isn't going anytime soon trust me, but promise ourselves to not stop trying to be better. To you, and to myself, I hope a better year ahead.

[khamakha]

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)

[khamakha]

Virginia Woolf's suicide letter to husband

" Death was an attempt to communicate; people feeling the impossibility of reaching the centre which, mystically, evaded them; closeness drew apart; rapture faded, one was alone. There was an embrace in death. "  - Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway (1925).