Hmmmm. I’m still trying to get the hang of this… hmmm.

        

Disregarding faith,

becoming happy

& realizing contentment

is like …

finding god

in your own strange way.

  

You write so
beautifully, the
inside of your
mind must be a
terrifying placeĀ 

(via wataridorii)

razorshapes:

Carmen Marchena - Iceland (2012)

(via radiantboy)

              

(via weareallstarstuff)

      

(via aurvm)

(via ghannoum)

It is not okay.


Iamnotokay.

But, … it’ll get better.

Because, …

— because I’ll make it better.

  

gettyimages:

Daily Life In Kabul

A young Afghan boy looks on as his hand is held roadside by a woman wearing a burqa in Kabul, Afghanistan.

Photo by Daniel Berehulak/Getty Images

(via halalstripper-deactivated201302)

        

suspensioncathouse:

Tang Wei Min

(via ming85)

  

Guilt tripping your daughters for becoming women,

for having differing mentalities,

for having dreams separate from yours,

for loving, questioning, and acting on their own terms,

is so not fucking cool.

    

Passive aggressive mothers make for resentful daughters.

  • Me: Aspect X of my people is so frikken stupid.
  • Non-Muslim/Brown Person: Yeah, it really is.
  • Me: Don't insult aspect X of my people! It's not stupid... it's just... different....
  • Ugh.

With billions of genotypes, variables, life circumstances, a myriad of cultural, historical, or religious upbringings, and our own differing personal struggles, scars, and sources of happiness, to believe anything other than an infinitely varying world perspective for every individual out there would be blind. We will all love, live, and find our own gods differently, if at all.

How can you honestly expect otherwise? That’s what makes the human condition beautifully evolutionary, after all.

  

"Actually, we are people without a homeland," my father said in between casual conversation of the hundred Shia killed in Pakistan, the shit policies of Obama - so identical to Bush’s - and us joking about moving to Canada.

I looked onward to a claustrophobic parkway, decrepit in its own dear New York way, as we drove onward to our curry-smelling home, in the center of a very Jewish neighborhood, in a city with hundreds of languages we didn’t know existed, and in a country I had lived in my whole life but was convinced by loved ones of it not being my own.

"Yeah. I suppose we really are."