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That laughter did not just echo in the air...

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There was a time I spoke of my dreams the way a child speaks of the stars softly, innocently, with affection in my voice.  I shared them not as a burden, not as a demand, but simply as a piece of my heart. And somewhere along the way, my dreams were misunderstood, and the very thing I had trusted with affection  was turned into something to laugh at. That laughter did not just echo in the air, it echoed inside my chest. And something fragile within me shattered quietly. My intention had been pure. My words had been gentle. But still, they were misunderstood. So slowly I learned to hold my heart back, to keep my dreams folded within my silence. Today, while standing in prayer, I spoke of those same dreams again but this time only to Allah. And suddenly I understood something. Those dreams were never meant to be carried by the world. Where my sincerity was misunderstood, Allah understood it before I even spoke. Where my heart once felt small, He made it feel seen. For I always k...

I want to be soft and kind and happy...

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I want to be soft and kind and  happy. I want to be a small sun  that warms everyone around me. I want to smile and tuck my hair behind my ear and laugh. I want to be so full of love, i can't help but spread it all around.

There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more...

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There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds. The worst wounds, the deadliest of them, aren't the ones people see on the outside. They're the ones that make us bleed internally. ~Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral's Kiss

Yes I enjoy walking at night. The world's more to my liking then,...

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"Yes, I do enjoy walking at night. The world's more to my liking then, not so loud, not so fast, not so crowded, and a good deal more mysterious." ~Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

I am starved for tenderness and.....

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 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝒉𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛  𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡𝒉𝑠." -𝑀𝑎𝑦 𝑆𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑜𝑛, 𝑅𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: