We don’t speak the same language.
The other day, one of my guy friends was asking me how girls use likes on a photo for self esteem, and he couldn’t seem to understand why anyone would do that. He thought the whole idea was absurd, but the problem is, he wasn’t understanding it right. No matter how much I explain, he couldn’t understand the reasoning behind it.
Since this friend is a car maniac, I decided to put it in terms he can understand, and he understood it. And that’s when it occurred to me we don’t speak the same language.
Men don’t understand our problems because they don’t understand us.
This is how I worded it. And I decided to post it here, in case anyone else wanted to read it.
“Okay, let me give you a car analogy. Easy terms. Let’s say you’re given a car. Its not fast or nice looking, but it has a nice interior. Except nobody really looks at that because they’re too busy looking at the outside of the car. And all of your friends have nice cars, cars you wish you had. And they go fast and it looks good and they spend their time trying to make their car look even better and they pick up hot girls with their cars and win races and have so much confidence. They have it so much better than you, and you can’t understand why they’re so blessed. And you get jealous sometimes because its not like you can motivate yourself to work hard and buy a new car. This is your car forever, you don’t get to choose it and you can’t change it. Sometimes it makes you sad, sometimes you feel satisfied with what you have and just try to make it work. You convince people you got it good too, but most importantly, you’re trying to convince yourself.”
I hate my family.
I hate my friends.
I hate everyone.
I hate him.
I hate myself.
I hate my school.
I hate my life.
I wanna just run away.
*Staring at my naked body after a shower and hating myself has become another morning hobby.
And I hate how I can’t talk to anyone about this insecurity because they’ll give me the usual “what?! But you’re thin!”
Thin doesn’t make you beautiful.
Doesn’t give you firm legs and non flabby arms and a flat tummy and round butt cheeks and perky boobs.
I don’t even wanna start looking at my face or I’ll start finding flaws there, too.*
*To be deleted.* no reblogging.
To be honest marriage would solve a good 99% of my problems.
What’s keeping me back? Time.
Can’t understand how someone could love a materialistic object so much.
“Sex is so hard to explain. The feeling of it. For years I’ve been trying to explain how it feels like, and for years I’ve failed in putting my thoughts together. The physical and mental and emotional aspect of it. Its beautiful. When you get married and have the opportunity to experience it, you’ll understand. Try laying down and putting it into words, and you won’t be able to. That experience is indescribable. Maybe that’s why sex is so special in Islam that its reserved for a married couple. Because after you just lay down and look into your wife’s eyes and try to put into words what you feel and you can’t, but you look at her and you know she feels the same way, too.”
whats that sigh called?
there’s something called a sigh of exasperation. you know, when you’re frustrated and you sigh and it sounds a little like a groan.
and then there’s a sigh called sigh of defeat. when you give up, and it’s a sad sigh.
but then there’s another kind of sigh. its the sigh you make when you’re happy, sort of. but not off the walls happy. just…content.
the sigh you make when you lie down in the arms of your lover, the sigh you make when you finish a beautiful book, the sigh you make when you watch your newborn son sleep, the sigh you make when you wake up early in the morning to watch the sunrise, the sigh you make when you watch the waves crash along the shoreline and wet your feet.
what’s the word for that?
received the best news today.
and celebrated with one of the best people.
it was nice.
Do you believe in soul mates? Like people we’re actually MADE for each other? And they’ll somehow be together no matter what? Or do you believe that love takes its own course and whatever happens happens, you just make the most of it?
I’d like to believe in soul mates theory, I wanna believe it. Makes sense a little, that fate has been written and you’ll end up with whoever Allah created for you. But I think its usually the second option. Things just happen, coincidentally. And we blindly move along, trying to find our way.
for a writer who appeals to human emotions, you really dont know a thing about feelings. you’re a heartless person.
Muslim family created by me and my sister. Mama Woody, Daddy Homer, ghetto son (hoodie and sib7a/tasbeeh necklace), Pali activist son #2, and “fashionista” daughter.
so as of June 9, I’ve been on tumblr for two years.
idk how to feel about that.