shxrika:

Perhaps you are sleeping while tens of du’ā are being raised for you.

From a poor person you helped, or a hungry person you fed, or a sad person you made happy, or a person in distress you eased.

Never belittle any good deed.

poemsforpersephone:

yes or no?

yes, we came from the darkness,
with only matches to light our way. they flickered
with every tiny gust that whispered across us
but we faced hurricanes and emerged, still holding the flames. 

yes, i let you in because i couldn’t bear to keep you out.
you took hold of a heart that forgot how to beat
and taught it how to draw breath with all of the starlight inside you.

yes, i love you. no, i won’t say it.

yes or no?

no, don’t leave, the air is brittle and cold
and so am i, but you make me want to be warm.
i think i could find the sun in your smile if you stay long enough.

no, i won’t let them take you
when i only just found myself in your eyes. 

no, this isn’t the end. this is our start. you claimed us as home
and a beginning has never tasted as sweet
to a tongue so used to bitterness.

---

YES OR NO? // l.s.

memoryslandscape:

The clear sky has set itself against the wall.
It’s like a prayer to emptiness.
And the emptiness turns its face to us
and whispers
“I am not empty; I am open.”

Tomas Tranströmer, closing lines to “Vemeer,” For the Living and the Dead (Ecco, 1995)

piratestudy:

Okay. So #studyblrs get real isn’t trying to offend anyone. I’ve gotten some anon messages that are really rude and I’ve just straight up deleted them.

#studyblrs get real is just that, we’re getting real. I’ve rewritten my notes to be aesthetically pleasing one time. Uno. Ein. Yeah that’s the only languages I know one in.

The studyblr aesthetic isn’t most people’s real life studies methods. It’s some people’s, and I want to congratulate those who manage to keep the aesthetic up.

But honestly, it’s not real life. Real life is being up at 2 AM, surrounded by four empty cups, Rice Krispies Treat wrappers, and a pizza box with just pizza crust in it, and grease marks on your paper. Real life is not having time to make these AMAZING and GORGEOUS notes, because you’re studying for the grade, NOT the notes.

People say you just need to “study” to be a studyblr, but why is it only the MUJIs, the Mildliners, and the Staedtlers get reblogged? Why doesn’t the pictures of sloppy, coffee stained notes get reblogged? The rain drenched crinkled notes that don’t get rewritten. The notes with more scribbles than legible writing.

Underneath is why I think that #studyblrs get real needs to become popular, and fast, which has been taken from what I said in a conversation with @universi-tea where the idea for #studyblrs get real came up.

Teens that are growing up may not know what they’re facing, because aesthetic studyblr makes it look like sunshine and lollipops.

“I’ve been through things that will commonly happen. I’ve been rejected by my dream school, and I’ve cried at 4 AM in the morning because my fourth SAT scores weren’t high enough to meet requirements after months of studying. I’ve taken AP classes. I’ve graduated.

Your high school/college/university experience may have been different, but mine was a rude awakening and I’m trying to prevent others from crashing and burning like I did. I was an all A student in high school, even with AP classes. I graduated fifth in my class with 25 credits from AP scores, in which my school only offered seven AP classes.

My first test in uni was a 38 in Business Calculus. A fucking 38 out of 100. I remember it very vividly (Thursday night, and the Blacklist was on.) It was like someone was trying play a joke on me because I had NEVER gotten that low of a test grade before. I remember looking at my scores, and the sense of dread settling into the pit of my stomach. I cried, and then called my old AP Bio teacher (idk why now that I think about it) I had a panic attack, and I was by myself (lived alone.) Those two are very dangerous. My next test score was a 51. Rinse, and repeat.

Do you know how worthless I felt? How long my mom yelled at me after I called her? How my friends reacted when they found out? I went and had a four hour conversation with the professor, who told me that this was the most common thing he saw in a class with freshmen in it. That they come thinking that they’re prepared and they are by no means prepared. I had to go to tutoring. For every single class but one. This was so fucking embarrassing. I had gone from the tutor in HS to the tutored in Uni.

My best friend went to the North Carolina School of Math and Science. Extremely prestigious, and extremely hard. “It’s like taking uni classes when you’re 16, 17, and 18, but you don’t get credit for them as college classes.” I’ve known my best friend since I was 10-ish. She’s the most level headed, and the smartest person I know. She calls me frequently, crying, because the work load. She spent a whole week with me trying to get over one failing grade.

This embarrassment, this shame and lack of self worth I experienced in uni is something I NEVER want ANYONE to experience. I’m trying to prevent these people younger than I am from feeling this way, because I had sunk into a depression because of grades. Grades that could’ve been prevented, had I known the truth.

Sure, the studyblr aesthetic may work in some people’s lives, but in college/uni, you’re being pulled in so many directions. I don’t know of a single person in any of my classes that have gorgeous notes. Hell, I don’t know anyone who can even afford to buy nice planners, or buy fresh fruit. Being “a broke college student” is entirely legit.

But all this aside, if you’ve managed to live out the studyblr aesthetic in university and keep up your grades, you better be DAMN proud of yourself. I’m not trying to make anyone mad. This is the reality most of us experience. It’s the honest truth, and I had to find out the hard way. I just don’t want anyone else to find out the hard way, either.“

yahoberries:

hope girls grow up knowing that there are infinite ways of being a woman. hope girls grow up loving themselves for who they are.