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Dr. Aastha Jain
I am made up of bandages and blankets But there's something beneath that aches for me to write. Don't pick my quilt up, don't undo my bandages.. Why would you want to see scars over flowers🌻❤ -AJ Hello Resties! ❤️ Collab on this #r
Don't pick my quilt up, don't undo my bandages.. Why would you want to see scars over flowers🌻❤ -AJ Hello Resties! ❤️ Collab on this r #yqbaba #YourQuoteAndMine #yqrestzone #collabwithrestzone #yqrz #rzpictureprompt #rzpicprompt4022
read moreSahana~
~We all are made of muses and phrases. We are all made of muses and phrases. We live to become a poem. The sonnets soak my mere emotions whereas my musings are left with the dee
We are all made of muses and phrases. We live to become a poem. The sonnets soak my mere emotions whereas my musings are left with the dee #sanamusings
read moreNfb ..
You are making money by exploiting our emotions,by giving us the hopes but hopes which are filled with nothing but a void because you don't know what we truly are going through,you are hypothetically working and giving solutions.Even if you analyse the problems but the solutions that are theoretical or worked for others may not work for us.Rather than your motivational lectures what we truly need is someone to listen to our inner screams not showing us ways to silence it. May be your intentions aren't bad in the beginning when all this just started but now it has become nothing but a alluring business to every good speaker because the mental health is the best selling commodity now .It earns you name,fame and money but ask your consciousness is it really helping those in dire need of help,is it reaching out to the unreached,it's a one way medium my dear.Stop it and help those around you rather than trying to reach to those miles away . I'm so fed up of you forwarding me motivational videos, as if they're the answer to my illness. No, they're not. Tony Robbins or Jay Shetty
I'm so fed up of you forwarding me motivational videos, as if they're the answer to my illness. No, they're not. Tony Robbins or Jay Shetty #Collab #YourQuoteAndMine #postman #postboxit #postmandiaries #yqpostman #motivationjunkies
read moremarmalade ツ
— % & There will come a day when planting red roses in thin air and knitting ships with unicorn heads in buckets of water won't help. The black s
There will come a day when planting red roses in thin air and knitting ships with unicorn heads in buckets of water won't help. The black s #theunsungquill #wcforgetme
read moreThe Dream Doodler
If leaving was the synonym of apology, sun wouldn't blush so gallantly while bleeding and ending, at sunsets. Only the five lettered word would be its routine. Think over it before you leave something to recollect yourself and intend to tell a sorry for that. Well, sun don't end though. Sun just rejuvenates itself. •Have you seen how smudged and merged kajal on your face at the failing nights, looks alike the sunset spread on a sky? Still, the sun rise
•Have you seen how smudged and merged kajal on your face at the failing nights, looks alike the sunset spread on a sky? Still, the sun rise #wc4words10 #quiterandomrandom #musingsonsunset
read moreSuranya
There was a certain beauty in the forests. The rustling of leaves. The birds chirping. The moon shone in its crescent shape and the stars were slowly becoming visible as the sky grew a shade darker. She parted the curtains of the caravan. The light of a torch was visible at a distance. The dusk had just set in and they were almost there. Or so she was told. On any other normal day, she would have noticed the rustling of leaves or admired a bird's song. But today was not any other day. Rumours were flying. She was summoned immediately to this hideout after ten days of the war and waiting. She had travelled alone, leaving the family behind in the Bhil village they had set up camp at. Her heart beat increased. Was it bad news? *Heartbeats* by Suranya She said a soft prayer as the caravan stopped. "Ranima" she heard her son outside the curtains. "Come". The curtai
Aady
Your Full Moon... //caption// The moon saw her there, just as every other night, sitting at the sil of her window, her face awash in midnight's breath. With arms wrappe
The moon saw her there, just as every other night, sitting at the sil of her window, her face awash in midnight's breath. With arms wrappe #thesoulvoice #themoonisfull #savinggrace
read moreRamona Singh
Dirty museums To have a memory never so nothinglike, is a tragic tragic thing. It is almost to not know when to believe, when to not believe. To have a pa
To have a memory never so nothinglike, is a tragic tragic thing. It is almost to not know when to believe, when to not believe. To have a pa #ramonasfavourites #thevioletdaffodil
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