lovely

When I wanted to be loved.
          I smiled when I was breaking.
          I laughed when I was crying.
          I said yes when I meant no.
          I stayed quiet when I was screaming.
          I gave my heart when I couldn't afford it.
          I received it broken, shattered into pieces.
          I forgave when I knew I shouldn't.
          I trusted when I knew I was broken.
          I gave my heart again knowing I shouldn't 
          I repeated till-
          

Sometimes I ask myself questions that I don't even know the answer to. And that makes me think I'm a terrible person!

I fvcked up!

Here are some rules for arguing in the family, on vacation and at work.
          1) If you don't know how to pronounce an English (French or German) word, ask. If possible, ask to someone who does know.
          2) Latin names are ours, not then. So "plus" is pronounced "plus", not "plas". "Media" is pronounced "media", not "midia". "Junior" is pronounced "junior" and not "giunior".
          3) Forget about "true British pronunciation": the English have abandoned it too.
          If you've been told that you need to spit to pronounce the article "the" correctly, do it. On whoever gave you that idea.
          4) Be arrogant. If you have made a decision, defend it.
          5) Be smart. Make sure that decision is the result of reasoning
          6) Be flexible. If your boyfriend insists that you say "junior" (junior), don't change your pronunciation: change your boyfriend. (If he's a husband, write to me: we'll work out some blackmail together).

Why do always people change their personalities???? why the hell I'm not able to do that????

وہ محبت بھری آنکھیں 
          جس میں ڈوب جاتی ہیں روحیں 
          وہ محبت بھرے الفاظ
          جو دل میں لائیں مٹھاس ❤️‍

Dear can you try my books too?❤️

Think I'll miss you forever
          Like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky
          Later's better than never
          Even if you're gone, I'm gonna drive (drive), drive
          
          I got that summertime, summertime sadness
          Su-su-summertime, summertime sadness
          Got that summertime, summertime sadness
          Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh

The Revenge of the Comma.
          
          Once upon a time there was a comma who was annoyed by the little consideration in which everyone held it. Even elementary school children made fun of her and completely forgot about her existence. What is a comma, after all? Nobody uses it in newspapers anymore. They throw it out, haphazardly. And then one day the comma rebelled. When the president of one of the most powerful states in the world wrote the short note, after the long conversation with his opponent, "Peace, it is impossible to launch missiles", and hastily passed it to the General, at which point the little, careless comma put his plan into action and moved on. He only moved one word, just a little jump. What the General read was: "Peace impossible, launch the missiles." And a World War broke out.
          
          (Bruno Ferrero, Il segreto dei pesci rossi)

You're beautiful.
          You are beautiful.
          And not because of that little bit of makeup.
          You are beautiful because of how much life has passed through you,
          for the dreams you have inside 
          and that I don't know.
          Beautiful for all the times it was your turn,
          but on to the next one.
          For the words spent in vain 
          and for those sought far away.
          For every tear that fell 
          and for those hidden at night 
          in the accomplice moonlight.
          For the smile you feel,
          the attentions you don't find,
          for the emotions you feel
          and the hope you invent.
          You are simply beautiful,
          like a flower picked in haste,
          like an unexpected gift,
          like a stolen glance
          or a heartfelt hug.
          You are beautiful 
          and it doesn't matter if the world knows,
          you are really beautiful,
          but only for those who know how to look at you.
          
          (Angelo De Pascalis)