401
المشتركون
+124 ساعات
-217 أيام
-10130 أيام
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401
I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m tired of acting like I’m okay. I smile. I smile. I smile, but the pain don’t fade. I try, I try, I try to leave it all behind. But night after night after night, still on my mind. I wake up feeling heavy in my chest. Like I lost something I never said. I move fast so I don’t feel stressed, but it waits for me when I rest. Everybody thinks I’m cool. They don’t see what I go through. I don’t talk, that’s what I do. I just hold it, hold it. I remember this. We didn’t fight back when wrong stuff felt right. Now your name feels way too loud. Even silence sounds like you. I delete the text, not the pain. Different faces, same mistakes. I say next time I’ll be changed, but I stay the same. I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m tired of acting like I’m okay. I smile, I smile, but the pain don’t fade. I try, I try, I try to leave it all behind. But night after night after night, still on my mind. I sit alone in crowded rooms. I play it cold. They don’t know my favorite move is disappearing. I don’t hate love. I hate hope. It makes it harder to let go. Every contact feels like rope around my throat. I don’t know when to cross that line from healing to heartache. I don’t cry, just feel numb. Like the tears already done. If pain had a favorite song, this would be the one. I see a shadow on my phone. Every time it lights up. I know we both already gone. I try love, or try space. Try moving on. Same face. Every road leads to the same place. Back to you. I don’t drink. Got too much to think. I replay words you didn’t mean, but they stay with me. If I’m honest now, I’m scared. That the feeling never ends. That my heart would never feel the same. I used to dream about the future. Now I feel so empty. I don’t need nobody to save me. I just want some peace. Every night feels too long. Too long. Too long. I talk to God. Like He heard us all before. I don’t ask Him for much more. Just let it hurt less. I’m not broken, just in pain. Trying hard not to resend all the love I’m never meant to lose. One day I’ll wake up late. I can finally take a breath. It ain’t going to hit my chest. I just write these songs. What if they’re the only thing keeping me alive? If I’m quiet now, you know why. I’m surviving. I don’t need to be okay. I just need another day. If I make it through tonight. I’m alright. Stay away.
401
Repost from مشاور کنکور|پرتو
برای همین امروزه از اصطلاحاتی مثل :
طرف هفت خطه* استفاده میکنند
و چون اولین خط جام اسمش جور هستش هرکسی که نمیتونست تا جور بنوشه فرد دیگه ای مینوشید و اصطلاحی بنام:
من جور تو رو کشیدم*
ازونجا میاد(((:
401
Repost from مشاور کنکور|پرتو
🔷 هفت خط جام شراب: در قدیم، جامهای شراب با هفت خط یا درجهبندی خاص ساخته میشدن. این خطوط برای اندازهگیری مقدار شراب ریختهشده توسط ساقی بود، تا هر کسی بر اساس ظرفیت و تحمل خودش (از نظر جسمی و ذهنی) شراب بنوشه و مجلس به هم نریزه.
ساقی بر اساس طبقه اجتماعی، سن یا توان فرد، شراب رو تا یکی از این خطوط پر میکرد...
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شاهها بر تخت میمانند، چون پیادهها خوب مردن را بلدند.
در این صفحه، استراتژی فقط یک واژهی شیک برای پوشاندن یک جنایت سنگی است. شکوه پادشاه از خون سربازی تغذیه میکند که پیش از افتادن، حتی نامش را هم کسی نپرسید.
برد تو، همیشه مرثیهی یک پیاده است؛ شطرنج، ضیافت بیرحم فدا کردن است.
