Text 20 Sep 3 notes

I’ll be going on a 5 day trek through the Sahara Desert in November with the Human Relief Foundation to raise money for the displaced people of Syria. I’m required to raise £2500; your every donation will help me to reach my target and make a difference to the lives of Syria refugees. Donate securely online at www.justgiving.com/Zainab-Batool. Thank you!

Photo 20 Sep 80,460 notes fiftyshadesofrizzy:




(Source: ovoxxxo)

Text 24 Aug 47 notes My last post

Dear God of broken hearts.
Today he celebrates his walima. Today I mourn for two: the one who was dearer to me than life and died, and the one who left as though the universe we had created was nothing after all.
The way I mourn is strange, my God. No one comes to give me condolences. Instead they tell me to smile, and so I do. I stand, I walk, I laugh, I work. But it is all forced and I am empty and so very broken. All I do is run from place to place looking for shelter. Maybe I drive all day and night because that is when I can weep.
My Lord, they say that you do not place such a burden on one’s shoulders that they cannot bear. But my Lord, my shoulders are so heavy, and I have no shoulders to rest on.
My God, I do not ask for happiness. The lines of my hand tell me that I am not destined to be happy. All I ask is to ease the pain when I breathe, to ease the way my heart bleeds when I wake and when I sleep. I am so very alone. I wish to ask for someone who can stand by me, stand for me. But I am scared, too scared to ever trust.
My God, I do not ask for justice. I know that each will be accountable for their wrongs whether I ask or not.
I pray only that I stay in his heart as a regret that never leaves him. I pray that his chest aches for me too, every morning and every night of his life.
I’m leaving this blog. I left everyone and everything for him. In the end I even left him, for him.
I know he is reading this. So I ask this: promise me one last thing at least. Promise that you will always remember the way the water sat in our eyes on the day we said goodbyes.

Text 23 Aug 16 notes

There is a fine line between hurt and anger. I am trying so hard not to complain about you to God.

Text 23 Aug 17 notes

Tonight she sleeps in your arms, in the home I dreamt of for years. Tonight I drive through the night, lost, from nowhere to nowhere.

Quote 23 Aug 1,307 notes
I leave my grief for midnight when I pour out my heart to God only.
— Mostafa Chamran (via sange-saboor)
Quote 23 Aug 39,445 notes
I hope my absence haunts you.
— (Six Word Story)

(Source: queen-ofqueens)

Photo 23 Aug 697,204 notes hplyrikz:

Clear your mind here


Clear your mind here

(Source: sensibilitaet)

Text 23 Aug 4,059 notes


How do you sleep at night knowing you’ve caused distress to another human being? 

Quote 23 Aug 8,883 notes
وأصحى من الليل
.وأبعت روحي تصحيك

And I wake up in the middle of the night,
Longing for you
And sending you my soul to wake you up.
— Abdel Halim Hafez  (via milksheikh)

Every night

(Source: inderacinable)

Photo 23 Aug 32,360 notes 
It’s the same rain you loved that drowned you.

It’s the same rain you loved that drowned you.

(Source: myarabicthoughts)

Quote 23 Aug 336,118 notes
Nothing can wear you out like caring about people.
— S.E. Hinton, That Was Then, This Is Now (via thenocturnals)

(Source: modernmethadone)

Quote 23 Aug 1,044 notes
We never really
belong to a place until we
lose someone we love;
we never really
know a city until we
start looking for them
around every corner.
—  Maza-Dohta (via monabasheer2)
Quote 23 Aug 8,269 notes
It’s funny. When you leave your home and wander really far, you always think, ‘I want to go home.’ But then you come home, and of course it’s not the same. You can’t live with it, you can’t live away from it. And it seems like from then on there’s always this yearning for some place that doesn’t exist. I felt that. Still do. I’m never completely at home anywhere.
— Danzy Senna (via ankaheebaatein)

(Source: introspectivepoet)

Quote 23 Aug 673 notes
The tragedy of it is that nobody sees the look of desperation on a face.
Thousands and thousands of us, and we’re passing one another without a look of recognition.
— Henry Miller, The Cosmological Eye (via whyallcaps)

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