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I’m ready manifesto

I’m ready to move forward in a way that I didn’t plan. I now know that I can’t play with fate—but I can make decisions that can benefit me as long as I have loving and supportive people around me to do so. I can do whatever I want as long as I appreciate those around me, and fully accept happiness in whatever form it comes in. I should not jeapordize my happiness because I think I deserve less than that. I will not choose negative people to be a part of my life. I will love love. I will accept my fate. I will not look down on qismat because of my own insecurities. I will be happy. I am ready to be happy.

Warsan Shire said it will take “one to five years” to fully move on. I’m on 2-3. I can’t wait for 5.

You have made poor decisions in your past. Ones that make you regret not doing more, and you look at your age and you wish you had done all you wished for. I always thought, ‘why push yourself? You are being too hard on yourself. There’s no worries, just be happy.’

But there is one thing that you should regret.

It’s not wanting me.

Someone who still loves you and won’t move on because there’s that 1% that still holds on at the chance even though the rest of her 99% knows that she’s done and over everything.

Someone who would wake up every day and find a way to make you smile because it would make her smile.

Someone who obviously has lapses of judgements and wants to forget all the fights, lack of communication, and differences of needs and wants.

I’m somewhere in between content and happy but every day I count my blessings.

I’m okay without you.

day three.

warsanshire:

you’ll have to be careful,

my otherness

will spoil you

ruin you

after me, all else will taste

redundant.

Reblogged from warsan versus melancholy.

day four.

warsanshire:

you were like an ulcer on the inside of my cheek

that my tongue could not stop touching.

loving you was like watching a stranger clean

a week old wound;

i felt sick, but i wanted more.

Reblogged from warsan versus melancholy.

day five.

warsanshire:

two people who were once very close can

without blame

or grand betrayal

become strangers.

perhaps this is the saddest thing in the world.

Reblogged from warsan versus melancholy.

Sisters and daughters who turn into Women

You are coo’d, put into pink and always smiled at.

You get treated like a princess, you are taught how to

take care of the home.

You then become the home, the center of the

world.

And the day you leave the family mourns for their loss.

The daughter who held the younger brother in her arms,

kissed his face obsessively because she knew his youth would slip away from her

will one day have her own boy from her body to love. Another little girl to treat so sweetly. Brush her hair, teach her wisdoms of her thousand year old culture and to be proud and strong.

The father’s pride, The mother’s investment of herself, and the brother’s first best friend.

It’s like one pearl falling slowly off of a string that laces securly around the neck.

Her wedding is a celebration of her future yet, a funeral for her past.

Somewhere in the middle, may both paths meet so contentness can be made.

Brothers and Sons who turn into Men.

They don’t know how much the family loves them.

They have no clue how much we worry if and how

everything they need is taken care of.

We baby them, we love them,

even when they get annoyed of us.

But we can’t help it. There’s so much love inside and we know

that one day they will leave us for another woman

to create a family of their own.

So we try to keep them young,

which may have jeapordized their future just a little.

Creating little nazdana men.

They might be big, tall, strong men—

but they are babies who only want to eat from their mothers hands.

I hope that one day they understand how much love was invested in them,

even if it wasn’t shown physically.

I love you little one.

A glimmer of hope…

A childhood tragedy

that tore the family apart.

Recent calamity within the framework of the bigger tree

has created a glimmer of hope

that reconcilliation is possible in the future.

All that we ever wanted was to be one,

and years later in adulthood

where one had known his whole life to be broken

and the other only half, once tasting the sweetness of a happy union

our eyes light up a little at the possibility.

If it happens,

he needs this.

He needs this so bad. He is what he is because of this.

Her emptiness is because of this.

But if it doesn’t, that’s ok.

They have learned to move forward with a shadow behind every step. It’s second nature now. They have learned how to be warriors without emotion,

because of all the emotion that is living, burried deep within us.

a prayer before bed

eyesofadiaspora:

God, please preserve the prayer I have not prayed for or yet prayed but which you have already answered. Keep guarded the blessing which has kept me grounded in the palm of your hand and on nights when the tears want to be held by all the stardust in my countenance, blow softly into my spirit like you blew into Adam’s (SAW) and remind me why I fall at all, why my knees in particular, why grace or graceful and into and out of. Remind me to be still, beautiful, because I am.

Reblogged from Eyes of a Diaspora

songs that trigger memories.

Listening to ‘Not like the Movies’ by Katy Perry and I’m all of the sudden having these flashbacks of memories with you.

I remember that one night we gave advice to our server about her relationship. We had the same views, same tone of concern. We wanted to help her, have her see the truth of her situation without being too harsh with her.

I sometimes get sad because I want to let go of these thoughts of you, the way I know you already have. You’ve moved on, and I’m still in the past and I probably won’t leave from here.

Take care, and when you think of me, make sure they are only the sweetest of thoughts because I will feel them. You know me and my dreams.

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