ginayuma:

angas \m/  ginayuma:

angas \m/  ginayuma:

angas \m/  ginayuma:

angas \m/  ginayuma:

angas \m/  ginayuma:

angas \m/  ginayuma:

angas \m/  ginayuma:

angas \m/  ginayuma:

angas \m/  ginayuma:

angas \m/ 

What if I keep distance? Will I be missed? Will my worth be realized? Will my absence be noticed? Will it turned out good? or along with my disappearance and silence will be the end of everything? It’s hard to accept that sometimes your act of wanting some space leads to a total end. But it’s even harder when all you want is to feel significant and worthy but then led to a closed book in one’s life.

Too much

(via ninnjas)

“I needed to hate someone and you’re the one I love the most, so it fell on you.”
— Gayle Forman, Where She Went (via imyourhazelgracewaters)

(via ninnjas)

This is how you lose her.

You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.

You must remember when she forgets.

You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention.

She remembers when you forget.

You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.

You must learn her.

You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.

You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.

And, this is how you keep her.

— Junot Diaz, This is How You Lose Her  (via heranonymity)

(via ninnjas)

ginayuma:

sa sobrang accurate nito, parang gusto kong ireblog 100x. 

  • Sorry I was boring. I don't usually talk. I don't start conversations. I don't approach people even if I know them. But deep inside me, I really want to say everything inside of my head, I want to speak to every people I meet, I want to greet everyone a good day, and have an unlimited conversations. But I can't. I'm afraid of doing mistakes. I'm afraid of being embarrassed. I'm afraid of being judged. And no, I'm not isolating myself like an anti-social.