Fever Dream.

My take on an ideal Christmas.

So, I saw a lot of people blogging about their ideal Christmas. It, frankly, tempted me—though I'm quite aware this'll go unread. Just a place to share my thoughts.

Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. You know, the guy that died for our sins and was initially condemned for it but later returned in full glory, embracing every nook and cranny of the world as a religious breakthrough. The main idea he propagated was basically that we care for everyone, spread love and abide by some basic principles—most important of which was to stay humble and kind.

Then, tell me, why do we feel the need to be extravagant on the very occasion that is supposed to celebrate the birth of someone who is the humblest of all?

The idea of people throwing small, domestic parties is quite fine—comforting and valuable, in fact. Cosy gatherings with your family and friends, all huddled up close with fulfilling and hearty but not necessarily extravagant food, a piping hot cup of coffee and a crackling fireplace, whilst helping out those in your locality with warm food and clothes—even the street pets; the perfect idea of Christmas. Being grateful for all you have but not indulging too much.

Usually, I'd never comment on these things—it's none of my business on how people splurge their money. But recently I've been seeing posts about people having extravagant, over-the-top and simply infuriatingly indulgent Christmases. Not just that—these are the same people who refuse to help someone in need. They'll come up with excuses like, "Oh, I'm not rich enough to help this person."; or worse, "Oh, I don't have anything to give to this poor stray.—and then they proceed to make themselves look like a kind person by sharing quotes like, "give back as much as you can." Very ironic, isn't it, considering that a sandwich for a starving homeless person is barely 3 dollars at a Walmart and a sausage even lesser for the poor shivering dog on the streets? Don't you realise that the time you spend preaching, you can use that time to actually help people in need and make a difference? Even the smallest difference counts, people! Make a change! Splurge less on things you already have and start splurging on kindness—no matter how less you can give away!

Anyway, this felt more like a rant than a take on an ideal Christmas. This post is just futile. People don't change. But I need to channel the angry humanitarian inside me, so—Here goes nothing.

Even towards yourself <3

Unfortunately I wasn't a 16 yr old upper middle class teen in LA in 2015 in my tiny bikini and with tinier shot glasses so I'm just gonna have to relive that in the corners of a social media app through memoirs of lives in the forms of photographs which I wish I could've been in <3

the beach photos were unmatched

Me on Sundays🩷

My name is Abed.

I’m a survivor from Gaza, holding on to hope in a world that has fallen apart around me. 💔

The life I once knew — my home, my family, my sense of safety — has been shattered by war. Today, I live among the ruins, trying to find a path forward through the rubble and heartbreak. 🏚

Every moment is a battle against fear and uncertainty. What was once ordinary — a safe place to sleep, a future to dream of — now feels like a distant memory. 🕊️

I share my story not to seek pity, but to keep hope alive — to believe that even in the darkest places, kindness can still find a way. 🤍

If my story touches your heart, please consider sharing it or offering support. Every voice, every act of care, brings me one step closer to safety. ✨

Thank you for taking the time to listen. 🙏

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We are with you brother💗💗 more strength to you

Joy Sullivan, from Instructions for Traveling West: Poems; “These Days People Are Really Selling Me on California”

AHHHHH😭😭

Source: poeticalphotos

Me and who?

I think you're crazy, baby

I recently finished reading the kite Runner and oh my god was it eye opening. By the end of it, I was bawling my eyes out, and my lids hurt from being pressed down so tight. But even in the darkness of humane sorrow I saw a fleeting glimpse of turmoil that countless children like Hassan—and later Sohrab face. Not just in Afghanistan, but all over the world. Aptly, there's a lot of children in the world, but not enough childhood of each.

Humanity is weird. It pats your back, consoling you that there is good in the world one moment, and the next time you're looking at your scars in your mirror at your home, you can hear the voices of the same humanity, whispering in your ear that you're impure, for Sohrab; that you're a monster, for Amir; and lastly, you're illegitimate, loyal to your grave like a dog, and naive, for Hassan.

2 boys. Then 3 men. And 2 exemplary mentors. And 2 wilful women.

9 people. One story. One fate. One destiny. But many versions, many unheard rhapsodies.

Welcome home, Hassan. You'll eventually be loved proudly and boldly from the people you love. Welcome home, Amir. You'll eventually learn that what you did was wrong, but you were an affection starved child, and that isn't your fault. Welcome home, Sohrab. You aren't dirty or sinful, the dark corners of the world are.

For all of them, a thousand times over.

Why not both :(

Still have to decide between Ethel Cain or cigarettes after sex autumn?..