individual-prisoner

Latest Posts by individual-prisoner

This isn’t what I usually write about, but I think it’s important.

Ahh yes.... 🔥🔥🔥❤️❤️

250214: stress - chungha

When they throw "you're just like your mother" hoping as an insult but its genuinly the best compliment you had in the day.

RANDOM RANTS:

Every woman I see outside, on road, on public transport, availing metro, simply walking are so gorgeous, all of them are extremely pretty, yes ALL of them. I can't stop staring like, Miss/Madam/Queen/Femme Fatale let me worship you, every literally each of them with pretty eyes, beautiful curls, perfect nails, perfect kajal, even their dark circles make them look prettier, considering how strong it makes them look. No matter whoever it is, how stranger they are, I'll still can't help but admire (respectfully, ofc) atleast any one feature. I wish men could see women the way women see other women.

To love is to expect,

What is love, if it doesn't make the worn out winter willow , pray for summer?

Truth is,

You will never be unconditionally loved,

Be it in any way of your life,

Even the yellow leaf will love you,

Till you're the reason it has shed.

And thats the time, guilt and innocence,

Belong to the same labyrinth.

Afterlife:~

As the blinking lights turned pale,

And pulse rate slowly failed

to evoke a wave of life,

Her eyelids, remained open under the light;

Her lips, breathed its last,

With her skin and blue veins, fading lifeless, fast.

Her last she could see, her last she could hear,

Great darkness engulfing her,

Her family screaming in tears.

A heavenly peace, taking over her terrestrial body,

Her pain melt away, shes now a dead old lady.

A beam of light, from somewhere afar,

Taking her soul away, glowing brighter and brighter.

She approached close, and the light showed her,

A life she had received,never lived so far.

Before her she sees a child,

Screaming in tears,

"None but her!", hardly she exclaims in joy,

Her heart dropped, looking at the broken toy,

Her favourite one, she held it so dearly,

No toy could surpass, the broken doll's beauty.

Again, being taken aback by the light,

She faces a thirteen year old,

With eyes glowing bright.

She was amazed by her new nose piercing,

She forgot how she scarred herself, silently bleeding.

Soon she was placed before her adult self,

She met a lady in thirtie's,

Disappointed she felt,

As she was too obssesed with a perfect marriage,

She missed her daughter's first walk,at a tender age.

Shifting back, at that deep darknees again,

She sees a mirror, and a wretched reflection starring,

She meets an old lady, filled with regrets,

Regrets of never living a life, that

she was gifted.

All her life she spent on perfections,

Crying over things, out of her

ambitions.

Chasing the unreachable, she never lived the life,

Her mind was clouded with

"If"s and "why"s.

Old lady at reflection,laments her biggest regret,

The unrelished life of discontent, slowly faded.

Speaks to me💙

There is something so magnificent about the human fascination with the bright mess of the night sky, and the certainty that every one of my ancestors was familiar with the same sight, even if nothing else in our lives looks the same.

If I'm the grief

You'd be my long lost sadness, buried inside my ashes of anger.

If I'm the scar, you'd be the dripping blood,

Your clotted barrier, shielding me unwrapped.

If I'm voiceless, you'd be my pen, paper and words.

And if I'm "love"

You'd be the unrequited before it, the hopeless, before my romance.

What is defeat?

If not being the same kind of person you used to hate, and never wanted to be?

What is defeat?

If not being hated and looked down upon, by yourself?

What is deafeat?

If not being surrounded by the wrong people your entire life, thinking what is possibly wrong about you?

Truth hurts---

So does healing.

Wondering, how the bohemian in me at times,

Want an elegance before poetry,

And most of the times,

These words keep scorching out from hell.

I hope you know,

How many people loved you so silently,

Even you didn't notice, how their breathe was

Falling upon you, like heaven's grace,

Like every blessing.

And if knew, I certainly hope

You wouldn't want to stop living this young.

One such controversial yet selfish lookout of mine about life is, if it reaches its fullest potential or completion, through the involvement of others. Is it going to be incomplete, if we refuse to live for others? Is it going to be devoid of such potential, if we live for and validate ourselves, taking up things to understand and make ourselves joyful in a neutrally harmless manner, opposing the nature's law of, nourishing the upcoming. I claim my life revolvs around me, and me only. It is prooved so, I was born alone, and I'll die such. My life, will not end with the death of near ones, the ticking of my life will end with my death, my life is mine only, and it will not go in vain if i fail to be involved with others as much as I'm involved with myself I believe.

Losing lovable people who were worth living for, might bring misery, but life goes on.

Life goes on, certain people kill themselves if their loved ones die. Might be because, the idea of 'life goes on' without their loved ones, is the one that burns and stings inside the most. Its not only the absence of their loved ones that hurt, but the horrifying idea of their life "just going on" without their person. It's because their life, a keen parasite will choose to end with them. Neither before, nor after.

•Isn't it kinda concerning,

how people are unobothered about the things they don't know, and they're also unbothered for their unbotherence of such lack of interest and knowledge in specifically nowhere, atleast if not everywhere in shallow manner.

•Isn't it kinda concerning ,

how we define beauty in terms of certain standards, and it doesn't take us any seconds to label anybody, based on "doe eyes, fair tone", whereas we don't know where does real beauty lie? Does it exist only in mere taglines, or in the strength of it?

In the toils of everyday, through the dusted highways and polluted smogs that burns our eye, somebody still glows in her light tainted lip balm or undone hair.

•Isn't it kinda concerning,

Declaring ourselves as one of the finest animals, prooving our worth, unlike a bug or a mere animal who is not aware of its position,

we, as greatest of all, are entirely aware of our existence, how big, yet how small we are, How we are placed in time, we know it all.

but when it comes to our own means, it doesn't take us much to drag ourselves down to the creatures we claim, to be above than, yes, such mere bugs or animals.

It's such a tragic concern, to be failed as humans, even after our eight billion years of climbing up a ladder, only to bring us down.

Wondering....

Clarice Lispecto

The more you grow up the more you understand, you can't be straightforward everywhere, you don't have to sugercoat things, but you need to tell truth in a way it hurts less. Logic isn't everything and some stages make us emotional. It's not people's fault that they're stupid or doesn't agree with your logic. They've lived a life very different than yours, their pattern of right or wrong with yours will match rarely or maybe later. The more you grow up, the more you ask for the things that you never loved to see in people.

Real

Yes.

People aren't rude,

We just grow up without telling ourselves.

《■》Have you ever felt the present to be so hellish and empty, that you start reminiscing the past, as if it was the only time you've been happy, only heaven you used to live in.

It would be such a pity to think, how we search through the scatterred pieces of our childhood or the blurred out teenage, to live the time once again, when we used to be truly happy, when there were large room for dreams?《■》

Picture: pinterest

Agreed

2000s emos in horror films need to make a comeback

● The fact is, we often fail from the aspect of our greatest humanistic ability to build, communicate, and comprehend through the languages we build, only when a single line of a poetry or a simple muse, explain and understand us in such a perfectly satisfying way, that we couldn't ever do in all these years.●

Out of all people, I fell in love with you,

isn't that divine, sweetheart?💫

《¤》●This is it, whatever it is that's hard for you to let go, your missed opportunities, people you had to let go of when you were in love, toxicities, your failures, things that killed you, it all starts and ends here. Nothing matters as our cycle of humanity is locked inside terrestrially and there are things far beyond the galaxies, lightyears and our sight. Clusters of stars miles and miles away from this Earth, where you die with your heartaches.

● What you gained or missed, nothing matters. You end here where you started from, but there are things far beyond this place, too massive for us that we're merely existent, too dark to be explained, bodies of questions where nothing about us matters.

● For a moth born in a jar, the roof of the jar is everything it knows and fears to cross, and an illusion of truth. 《¤》●

☆~Does the universe create a Supernova, when somewhere lightyears away in a planet, its child fall apart and the sadness inside her, break and collide with each other? When the memories burst her heart inside and out, do the stars collide with each other there too,creating a black hole, resembling the void inside her? Or has it been eternally resilent? For I've felt the stardusts in my lungs everytime I cry.☆~

THIS

Don't you know jealousy, is a kind of pain? A pain, of not being enough?

🍀We can't keep expecting anyone else, to fill up a void created by someone else, in our heart. We can't replace other people to numb our own pain. We don't possess the right to pass on our pain to others.

People who were there, had sculptured themselves, curved and crafted their unique shapes in our hearts. Now, when the sculptures are gone, it leaves nothing but those crafted scars behind. We can't force any other artpiece into the box of a specifically crafted void.

Instead, why don't we try to find our buried selves into the crafted scars? Why don't we breathe through the voids created by them? When theres nothing left to save, let us relish the freedom.🍀

Thanks for tagging me @alex-a-roman

So.....

1) My hands get warmer instead of turning cold while I'm anxious.

2) I stammer a lot while talking to new people, but can give a lecture on a topic I like for 2 hrs.

3) weird food combos for the sake of experiment (ate noodles with chocolate sauce and many more oddities; ngl it was tasty)

Don't have much people to tag still (no pressure) :

@drunkwithdionysus @lockedpov @xxx-wrenfinch-xxx @wordlywriter

We all have unique traits, quirks, & habits about ourselves. Name 3 lil' oddities about yourself. I wanna know everyone's mildly freaky sides.

1) I only eat cereal at night.

2) I'm ambidextrous

3) I'm a sleepwalker. (My Dr. said I should grow out of it, but I haven't.) No, I don't take Ambien.

I'm tagging some outrageously awesome people. Join in if not tagged; I'm bad with names. Reblog with 3 weird factoids & tag...You know the drill. 😁

@elizabethnicole1951 @rubenesque-dollyd-93 @s-usans-blog @moonstar-magic @crossdresserica @googleme420 @justhiitit @loveherallican-blog @lizzy52955 @justmeagain4 @laughing-with-the-wind @dark-horse-1 @cheflew @jamesternes @iamgroot65 @oshea52 @needingthatsomething @bluelady329 @diavolaangelica @wildrice3 @iamgroot65 @abymg @demeter1111 @wildrice3 @i-j0s @nadira2269 @artinwood54 @taoofhope @lorenzoci @bcourchaine