"Love Is A Fire. But Whether It Is Going To Warm Your Hearth Or Burn Down Your House, You Can Never Tell."

"Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell."

— Joan Crawford

More Posts from Pensivesatire and Others

2 years ago

Watching the sandman wasnt enough i need to eat it

4 months ago
-Lydia Davis, From Essays One

-Lydia Davis, from Essays One

1 year ago
I Went Through Every Possible Emotion In Those Last 20 Minutes, Plus Some That I Made Up On The Spot!

I went through every possible emotion in those last 20 minutes, plus some that I made up on the spot! how are y'all?

4 months ago

my psychiatrist just diagnosed me with 19th century russian literature character

1 year ago

How are we all feeling about Aziraphale’s last “I forgive you”? Does it mean I forgive you for kissing me to try to get me to stay, I forgive you for choosing this moment to reveal your feelings, I forgive you for not coming with me, I forgive you for kissing me period??? What?

I keep going back and forth on it and I NEED to hear what everyone else is thinking. Lay it on me, I’m open to new interpretations because everything hurts and I’m dying.

2 months ago

🌸 From One Mother’s Heart – Please Read 🌸

My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.

But life had other plans.

🌸 From One Mother’s Heart – Please Read 🌸
🌸 From One Mother’s Heart – Please Read 🌸
🌸 From One Mother’s Heart – Please Read 🌸

War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.

There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.

I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.

Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.

This is my life.

This is my daughter’s life.

And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.

Why I’m Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.

That’s why I keep going.

I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.

How You Can Help: 🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity 🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources 🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war

💛 If you can, please support our journey here:

I Am Saja – A Mother Holding On Through the Return of War
Chuffed
My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didn’t have to live t

If you can’t give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.

From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war. But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.

I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.

Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.

With love and endless gratitude

1 year ago

every ask to neil gaiman goes about like this:

greetings sire, i am but a worm beneath you, but my dear sister is deathly ill and your work is the only thing that brings her happiness still. anywho, in season 2 of good omens do crowley and aziraphale have fucknasty butt sex? thank you!

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All those layers of silence upon silence. -Donna Tart

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