I Don’t “hate Them” I Can’t Hate No One, But Why Be Afraid Of Someone Who Suffered Like You And

“None but ourselves can free our minds.”

— Bob Marley

Que alguien se detenga en tus silencios habla de un cariño que no busca ser visto, solo sentido.

Joy Sullivan, “Solo“, Instructions for Traveling West

Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Trapeze: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin, 1947-1955

"Aunque el miedo me paralice y las dudas me consuman, no puedo quedarme en el suelo. Porque incluso en mis momentos más oscuros, sé que tengo la fuerza para sostener a quienes amo. La verdadera valentía es seguir adelante a pesar del miedo."

Mon-espace

{“The sun is falling down on me when I’m in the air, Valentine’s my death date, as it is meant to be for the following years. I’ll have you know I die every year for the upcoming holiday, Fresh flowers in a bouquet, place it on my front doorstep, I won’t answer no matter what you say. So, If I were the river, and you were the sea, Would this make you happier than we were ever meant to be. Languages, several, the downfall of me, English my love, Turkish my worst nightmare, the phantom tollbooth. But they took everything from me, would this be a good enough of an excuse for you to allow me to ache, Bury my head underneath a pillow, lack the oxygen I already don’t deserve, Suffocate myself so the air of Malibu wouldn’t make me cry underneath the atmospheric pressure? I’m falling down a skyscraper, in my dreams, Would you catch me before I meet the ground in an ease? The feeling surreal yet so real, I can’t depict which soul my own, belongs to me, before my wake. Why does relief make its way back to me when consciousness is gained, And I know it wasn’t real. I listen to alternative all day every day, I alternate as well maybe. Watching the sun switch places with the moon, I would love to do that with somebody who gets me, Switching places with the sun, So I could be in complete darkness with the moon. Would you Promise me this would be forever, Or will you, run away, twenty miles apart, Like all the others who went and came but never stayed?”}

-no soul other than mine, Dilara

For more | https://www.instagram.com/literaturedilara/

Jorge Luis Borges, "I Am Not Even Dust"

La pérdida se convertirá eventualmente en una razón para vivir, entre la desesperación y la esperanza.