Madness is defense against terror, madness is defense against grief.
Sometimes I have to “caress my hair, pat my head and tell myself that it's okay I'm here" to go to sleep
اک تو تم خواب لیے پھرتے ہو گلیوں گلیوں
اس پہ تکرار بھی کرتے ہو خریدار کے ساتھ
Or was my rage my mother's ? Or her mother's? Or hers? An inherited creature?
Stay away from the ones you love too much, those are the ones who will kill you
Me doing sad posts doesn't mean I'm sad, like some of y'all post loyal quotes but none of you are loyal.
ایسے ہونے سے تو بہتر ہے نہ ہونا تیرا
خاک میں یوں نہ ملا ضبط کی توہین نہ کر
یہ وہ آنسو ہیں جو دنیا کو بہا لے جائیں
“You really do want me" I say, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath as it hitches. “And you hate it" I change the angle of knife, turning it so it's against his neck. He doesn't look nearly as alarmed by that as I might expect.
“Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. it's disgusting, and I can't stop."
I am shocked into silence.
“Maybe you should shoot me after all" he says, covering his face with one long-fingered hand.
“You really do want me" I say, “and you hate it."
I want to wipe that smile off his face, but maybe I can't. Maybe he'll go on smiling that way to his grave.
Cardan grins at me as though we've been great friends all our lives. I forgot how charming he can be ___ and how dangerous that is.
That's what comes of hungering for something: You forget to check if it's rotten before you gobble it down.
I get why he chose her. I just wish she had chosen me.
~Jude
“Tell me, could you love me? " he asks, seemingly our of nowhere.
“Of course" I laugh, not sure of answer I am supposed to give. But the question is so oddly phrased that I can hardly deny him. I love my parents' murderer;I suppose I could love anyone. I'd like to love him.
“You're very beautiful" he says “Like a winter night"
https://www.instagram.com/reel/C47DNVsNPee/?igsh=MjJlOXI4M2p2cXJu
Mental/financial state of me and my best friend
Maybe there's something broken in me from watching my parents being murdered. Maybe my messed up life turned me into someone capable of doing messed up things. But another part of me wonders if I was raised by Madoc in the family business of bloodshed. Am I like this because of what he did to my parents or because he was my parent?
What could I become if I stopped worrying about death, about pain, about anything?
Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear.
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