#wnq writers

“some people have a habit of looking for you at addresses that your soul no longer resides at. it’s okay to accept that the space you are currently existing in looks very different to the one they last left with you. you don’t have to open new doors for old energy.”

— iambrillyant

“healing is such a lonely and intimate process. it requires you being your own friend on some days, being your biggest cheerleader in certain moments and spending quality time with your wounds— but it is all so necessary.”

— iambrillyant

“acceptance is more than just applauding the parts of yourself that you find beautiful and endearing, it’s about acknowledging the ugly parts that exist to you too. it’s about finding peace in who you are regardless of your flaws and the mistakes you’ve made.”

— iambrillyant

“sometimes, when you can’t articulate your feelings it is a sign that you are meant to absorb what you’re feeling and learn from it until you can find a language for your emotions. give yourself all the time you need, your intentions deserve softness.”

— iambrillyant

“sometimes, all you can do is love yourself a little more than you loved yourself yesterday, and that is more than enough.”

— iambrillyant

the darkness, the madness
i’m attracted to the sadness
the discomfort in your eyes
every time your heart aches
the pain makes you insane 
fills every corner of your brain 
i want you under my veins
but i try so hard to refrain
mama told me to watch my steps
when it came to demons like you
but you take my breath away
every time you walk into the room
but you’re the devil fighting your demons
which makes you an angel in my eyes 
you’re so lost, yet to serene
digging deep ends for a way to survive. 

- i think your sad eyes are kinda nice | @heavyemptyheart

If only I could go back and tell my younger self:

It’s okay to be a different kind of woman. There’s nothing wrong with you.

Being a women doesn’t restricts you, it makes you limitless.. ｡◕‿◕｡

—

What makes most happy, won’t always make you happy or what makes you happy, won’t always make most happy.

—

Read that again

To the faded dreams and memories that resurface to old songs replaying on the radio and scents riding on the breeze, may they always bring me that warm, chest-tightenting wash of nostalgia as I reminisce on what use to be.

Absolutely obsessed with the idea of spending the rest of my life with the love of my life.

-Fatimatuzzohraaa

Somehow she always managed to blend into her surroundings yet stand out at the same time. The pearl of the great blue sea. She, of wherever she wished to be.

~Arshi

I don’t know which was louder; the train as it passed by or my heartbeat as you hugged me for the very first time.

Christina Vistiaire

Someone wakes up in the morning and checks their phone for your Good Morning text. Someone can’t fall asleep without wishing you Good Night. Someone gets ready and skips putting on make-up ‘cause you complimented them on their skin’s natural glow. Someone walks up to their wardrobe and before whining that they have nothing to wear, picks up the same outfit from yesterday 'cause you said that it suits them well. Someone looks forward to their lunch time 'cause they get to see you in the cafeteria. Someone eats their lunch with a smile plastered to their face 'cause you shared a meme they could relate to. Someone orders tea instead of coffee as they remember your love for the former. Someone learns to prepare the perfect cup of coffee, just for you. Someone laughs more often 'cause you told them that it sounds adorable. Someone smiles amidst tears 'cause you told them that they have the most beautiful smile.

Someone is reading this and thinking about you. You’re reading this and thinking about the same person, maybe?

~ Mouma

And then you’ll find me, in my bathroom, spending at least 40 minutes in the shower, washing away the feeling of his hands that still remain on my skin, or in my room, in front of my dressing table, staring at my reflection wondering what it is that makes people vacate their way out of my life, wondering what is so bad about me that no one seems to stick around. You could find me in the middle of my room, lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling, listening to one of my many vinyl records. Or you could find me sitting on my window ledge, smoking the cigarettes that he used to, reminiscing on the taste of his lips that once filled my senses, or writing him into another hundred pages of my endless journals.

You will start to wonder when you will eventually forget about him. It may be ten weeks or ten years from now. But you will hold out for the day. You will try to think about all the negativities about his personality, in hope that it will make it that little bit easier to let him go. Like the fact that he smoked like a fish, or maybe it was his inability to complete a sentence without swearing. Or maybe it was his trust issues or his emotional instability. The list will go on and on. But you will soon realise that you grew to love all these aspects of his personality. The way he looked with a cigarette perched between his teeth. Or the way ‘fuck’ sounded when it rolled off his tongue.

Some things you can’t go back to, because you let them slip away.

I still think about him sometimes. Not in the “oh, I miss him” way of thinking, but more wondering what my life would be like if I didn’t get that flight to Washington, had I not left him in New York. If I didn’t get in that taxi, if I didn’t run out on him in the middle of the night.

Here I am, sat in an apartment, with my boyfriend, with our dog, getting our ducks in a row to buy our first home, and my mind shifts to him. I don’t miss him, I don’t care about him anymore, I’m no longer crippled by the loss, but sometimes I do think about him. Because when I met him, there was a version of myself I found, and then I lost just as quickly. And maybe I miss her more than I’ll ever miss him.

- Ever since New York

You can’t just let things go, because you’re not the one causing someone pain - he is, he’s causing you pain. So when you argue and bicker he’s always okay because you’ve never hurt him, he’s always the one hurting you. You’re always the one to go to bed with tear stung eyes and an aching heart. You’re the one that wakes up the next day with open wounds that haven’t healed yet He can forget and let go because he isn’t hurting, he hasn’t felt the pain of your knife plunging into him, because you’d never stab him. You can’t forget about the words he spits at you because there’s always truth in them, he wouldn’t say them if he didn’t mean them.

So when he comes home at 3am expecting a warm bed and heart to cuddle up to, you won’t be there - you will be this time, but as time passes and things worsen, one day, he’ll return to an empty room, vacant of any trace of you - the same way your heart will be vacant of him.

We’ll be a fine line

She was a bright girl. She knew what she wanted, and she knew exactly what she didn’t. She was easy to know, but difficult to work out. Mature for her age, with bright - misleading eyes, filled with innocence; contrasting from the crimson red that constantly coated her lips. Sending mixed signals without even opening her mouth. A burning soul and a freezing heart - contradicting herself from inside out. She’s a paradox. She’s careless, but she cares all too much. A love that once filled her heart, leaves her aching and longing. A passion that consumed her, leaves her cold and distant. A smile that was once permanently etched on her face is now vacant, left hard and bitter, non existent.

I set myself on fire just to keep you warm.

Once I lost you, I began to look for you, I’d look for you in the men I would date. I’d go for the men with messy blonde hair and sky blue eyes, but would run for the hills after realising they didn’t sound like you, they didn’t kiss like you nor did they listen like you. I started listening for you in songs: picturing the way you used to tap your thumbs against the steering wheel to the beat of the music we’d play in the car. I began to look for you in books; reliving our experience through someone else’s words and perspective. I began smoking those Marlboro cigarettes you always used to smoke, trying to be closer to you even though you were out of reach. I played our playlist everyday, on repeat, imagining we were still in your car singing along to every song. And then I started looking for you in my dreams, replaying the time we spent together over and over again, trying to chase after the memories, knowing I would never be able to replay them again. I tried everything, just to feel close to you - to feel the connection I feared I would never be able to find again.

Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too.

Maybe one day, I will find someone else to love, But I know it will never be a love like ours. It might fill me up with happiness - but it will never replace the love that we had. He might know me, But he won’t know me the way you did, the way you do. He won’t know to give me the grape flavoured candies out of the bag of Jolly ranchers - you know they were always my favourite. He won’t know the way I drink my coffee; strong with that French vanilla creamer you know I loved. He won’t know to squeeze my thigh when that one Ed Sheeran song plays, I always cry when that one song plays, but I didn’t when you were with me. He won’t know to make me a grilled cheese at barbecues - you know how much I hate grilled meat. He won’t know what I’m thinking without even asking me - only you could do that. He won’t be able to read me like an open book - that was your job. He won’t know to push me up against walls and steal a kiss from me - that’s always reserved for you. He won’t know what playlist to play when we drive - that will always remain ours. He won’t know me, I don’t think anyone will ever know me the way you did, the way you still do.

- You were a moment in life that comes and goes.