How do I talk to you without being possessive?
Today, I lost my Spotify account.
I care about you way too much, I know; but how do you expect me to stop caring? My own affection is pushing you away while my apathy will will make you forget me. You say that you wont, but I can already see myself slowly getting replaced. You’re getting bored of me while you’re the only person I want to share everything with. I don’t know what to do.
My anxiety is killing me.
Some ridiculousness with password recovery or whatever.
I had a serious panic attack when I realized that I couldn’t listen to the playlist you made for me so many years ago. It was my only remaining connection that I had to you and now it’s gone. That list of almost 300 songs which gave me heartaches even now is inaccessible to me.
I can barely remember you and I don’t like that; all I remember is how happy I was when I was talking to you and I know I haven’t been that happy since.
I remember your passion and your emotion; you knew so much shit that no one really cared about, but I remembered that I loved listening to it.
We were both really young and immature, me especially. It’s crazy how much I have had to grow up in the past two years. I wonder if you still remember me or think about me from time to time, I know I do.
I’m not sad anymore, but I still miss you.
"He says: I’m Muslim.
As he brings the double shot of rum to his lips.
I imagine the way it burns as it slides down his throat.
He winces, then smashes the glass against table.
Everyone turns and cheers,
then they go back to their conversations.
He says it again — I swear.
I say: I know.
He looks at me with sad eyes.
Wallahi - he says,
still trying to convince me.
I say: I know.
I watch his eyes turn to glass as he downs another.
I swear I am Muslim - he slurs
I say: I know.
No— he says— you’re judging me, look
and he holds his hands over his ears and he begins to recite.
And I put my hand over his as people begin to stare.
And I say: I know.
And he begins to cry, and his tears look ancient, and his face contorts, and his mouth is open but there is no sound, and his body shudders.
And he tries again and again, never getting past Bismillah.
He keeps on saying “No you don’t understand I am Muslim, I am Muslim, I am Muslim, I am Muslim”
I know, I say.
And he holds the bottle to his mouth and he almost swallows it whole, and he says “marry me Aasiyah, I am a good man, my father is a hafiz of Quran,
it is just this Dunya, it is this world that has killed me”
I know, I say
I had my first scenes with the TARDIS the other day. In fact, I had an argument with the TARDIS. I fell through it. I had to bang on the doors, and the doors weren’t shut properly, so in front of all the crew I went flying through it. It’s on camera. I thought, ‘Oh my goodness, I’ve broken the Tardis, everyone’s going to hate me.’
(Source: itsnorthern, via doctorwho)
"I care so much I’m sick."
Everyone is moving into the future. I’m stuck here longing for the past.
anxiety is terrible, you could be having an attack and no one would even know because it’s an inward thing. it feels like you’re malfunctioning and you can’t process your own thoughts. you get a knot in your stomach and you can’t take a full breath but outwardly you can literally just sit there and look completely normal as long as no one tries to speak to you.
Is it because I don’t see no chance for happiness in my future and that’s why I’m longing for the happiness in my past?
Do not be so sweet
That people will eat you up.
Nor so bitter that
They will spit you out.
Pashto Folk Saying.
Keep everybody rolling you around on their tongues for all eternity.