You Know What The Second I Stopped Saying “I Wish I Had A Friend Who-“ And Started Being “the Friend

Me, wearing a blanket as a cloak, stirring my mac'n'cheese in a dimly lit room: potion

There are times that my husband asks me questions, just to hear my thoughts. Like, he’ll read an article and send it to me just so we can talk about it. And I remember the first time he did it when we dated. I realized he actually respected what I thought and my opinion and he wasn’t just asking to be a devils advocate. Sometimes he would just let me talk and talk and just say “I hadn’t thought about it that way. That’s a good point” and that’s it. Not to fight me or ask my opinion so he can say his

And it dawned on me how many men are assholes and like to hear themselves talk and that for the 24 years of my life prior to being with him, not a single man had just ever asked me what i thought, just to hear my thoughts.

"am I being annoying" are you aware that my heart is trying to crawl out of my chest to get to you

Dark Academia for Brown People

 Most people, when they think of dark academia is books (that’s the whole point) and ancient languages such as Latin or Ancient Greek. I’m here to tell you that you all are SLEEPING on brown culture. Love that is conveyed in the languages of Persian and Urdu (my native language) crosses borders. Sure, Shakespeare and Sappho wrote great pieces of literature but the stories and poems of Rumi, Manto, Hafez and Iqbal have a special place in my heart. 

Some of my favourites are:- (all are translated)

Sit at my grave with wine and a minstrel in a trance, so your smell will raise me from the dead.

HAFEZ

My lover’s sadness lit a fire in my heart that burned my chest, there was a fire in his house that burned the nest.

HAFEZ

O the day turned night, what a shame, a gazelle of kindness a lion became, my partner and lover grew tired of my words and prayers too.

RUMI

These are my personal favourites. I can always make a longer post if you all want.

Female poets deserve a whole other post.

As someone who goes to an English-Medium school, we are always taught to converse in English, see the language as a part of yourself but deny a place to Urdu. As I grow older, I have come to appreciate my identity and so should all my fellow brown people. Take pride in your mother tongue.

I bet it's a cicada. Those suckers are terrifying.

My friend sent this to her Professor today

how do i break the cycle

prepare yourself for the absolutely insufferable lack of satisfaction found in forgiveness