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The Writer's Address

It’s time for me to regain control of myself. I have had a few weeks out of my life, to take in and find the things that really matter. I need to stop wasting time building bridges for people who care less whether they burn. It’s time to take control. Too many people fail to realise that indecisiveness is a decision in itself. And I have been indecisive for far too long.

adailypickupline:

I’ve got a serious sweet tooth.

Instagram

Sometimes, I like to burn flowers in bloom, just to remind myself that at one point, even beautiful things will shrivel and die.

(Source: thewritersaddress, via thewritersaddress)

sosa-parks:

As a college student you’re either struggling academically, financially, or emotionally. Or all three.

Oh how I miss the days.

(via storiesandshards)

Graveyard

thewritersaddress:

there are
nothing but
tombstones in my head,
only echoes of
all those I have ever loved.

It seems that out of sight, out of mind does work. But now pushed back into reality, you are plaguing me once more.

It’s my last night in Dubai and I’m so sad to leave this beautiful place. Though, Dubai is still a young city, there’s so many gorgeous things kicking around here in this Gotham-esque metropolis, from breathtaking views, to quirky Arabian bazaars to sophisticated city culture.

I stayed at The Fairmont hotel on The Palm, and I have to say it is the best hotel I have ever stayed in. The quality of the service is something I’ve never experienced. Dubai really know how to look after their guests!

The city draws you in, and as you’re driving through the eight-lane highway, you’re really see what man is capable of. It really makes you wonder.

After three weeks away, I do think it’s time to get back to reality. I will miss this city but hopefully I will be back soon!

Nik xo

it was always my fate
to burn by your
hand.

Dear Dad,

Leaving your grave was probably one of the hardest things that I’ve had to do. It felt like the day you died all over again. If I had known how hard it would have been to willingly leave you behind, I never would have let you go in the first place.

There are no words that can describe how I’m feeling right now. I feel as though all these years that I have remained empty and numb are now coming back. I feel as though I am feeling all nine years of grief at once.

I understand now. And I feel that I can let this anger and confusion go. I feel that I can finally move on.

Love,
Nik.

There are people in life who are the final stitches. What I mean by this, is that there are some people you meet in life who embody the root. Their branches grow far and wide, and they somehow manage to hold everyone and everything together. Should you ever find such a person, hold them tight. For if the root dissolves, so does everything that it holds dear. And all that is left are shrivelled petals of a past once had.

" Your mother did not raise you with a wolf in your chest so you could howl over losing a man. "

- read this on here today and i haven’t stopped thinking about this quote since (via pluiedem)

(via starlingwings)

" I didn’t need you to fix me. I needed you to love me while I fix myself. "

- Michelle K., Fixing Myself.   (via navillus-nylamme)

(Source: michellekpoems, via starlingwings)

your whispers
are shallow reminders
of my perforated memory,
you have slipped from me,
and the more I try to save you,
the more I drown.

learn to love me,
for the holes in my heart,
are all waiting for the
soft grace of your touch.

Visiting Bangladesh has been very humbling for me. To see what little these people have, and the strength of their spirits is amazing to me. I come from a humble background but in comparison, I am more than well off, and I am ashamed at my own high maintenance and greed.

In many ways, the country is beautiful. Despite the squander, nature is allowed to thrive in its own right. Wild and free, the landscape mirrors its inhabitants. I visited a waterfall today in Modhurpandor, and though I have visited waterfalls back in the UK, this was gorgeous. The trees, the footfalls, the straw huts, they all spoke of a tranquility that city dwellers would not understand.

My experience here has been eye-opening. Away from the stresses of our busy lives, I have been able to clear my head and focus on what really matters. I visited my father’s grave for the first time in nine years, and I realised that my own numbness is something that I will have to learn to accept. I am not experienced in showing emotion. My emotion comes from my pen, unspoken from my mouth. And its absence is not unnatural. The weird thing about being here in my father’s ‘basha’, is that for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel his presence around me. The guilt surrounding his memory has lifted and for the first time, I feel connected. It was not my fault that I did not hear the fall that changed my life. It was not my fault that we did not have the knowledge to save him. It is difficult to describe but I see him everywhere, in the aged eyes of my eldest uncle who is the only remaining member of my father’s side who has not emigrated out of our third-world home. I see him in the waft of all the trees, in the fading sunset, in the voice of my great aunt who raised him. I feel his presence everywhere but his grave.

Maybe it is denial, maybe it is guilt. Maybe it is something that I will never fully understand. But I will learn to accept the absence of how my feelings should present themselves. Nothing screws us up more than the idea of how it should be. In a way, this constant reminder of his memory should be hurtful. But I see the desecration around me, I see the greed and the lack of compassion surrounding my family, and I am happy that wherever he may be, he is at peace.