Melly I read that Zayn in a golf cart gif set in his accent and now I would like you to transcribe the whole scene in Zaynglish please. As a matter of fact, is there a way you can go into every fanfic ever and overwrite every Zayn speech and dialogue in Zaynglish? Thanks, you're the best!
Can I ask why you "avoid hyped books like the plague?" Just curious :)
Haha of course!
In 9th grade The Hunger Games was THE book of the moment in my friend group. I read it. Really didn’t like it, and was put off from the rest of the series until I tried it again in college, which was when I liked it more.
In 10th grade Looking for Alaska was SUPER popular at my school. Dare I say…overhyped. I decided to check it out, logically. I HATED IT. Oh my god I hated it so much (I need to try rereading it and see if I still hate it).
It sounds dumb, but those two books really screwed with my mental thought process on overhyped/hyped books. I just felt so let down by the books, their hype, and who liked them and I felt weirdly alienated because I didn’t like them (keep in mind this was all happening in high school when my self-esteem was already at an all-time low).
I guess now that I’m a bit older it’s different reading series that are hyped, but I’m still extremely cautious about them and that’s why my recommendation lists usually offer pretty obscure/lesser known books that are NOT overhyped because I simply haven’t read a lot of the really popular one’s.
You’re going to need a person in your life who makes you smile even when you’re mad. Who knows your heart like the back of her hand and calls you out on your bullshit. Who says, “screw him,” and “I love you,” and, “you got this,” and really means it. Late nights of long phone calls and laughing until your ribs hurt. You need a person who sees you for what you can be, what you will be, and never lets you be any less. A weirdo, preferably. Who yells your name across street just to embarrass you. Who holds you when he breaks your heart and keeps you strong when he comes crawling back. Who tells the truth when she talks about life and makes you feel a little less alone. A person who is beyond words, beyond thanks, beyond what you could have asked for. Find this person. Trust me. You’re going to need her.
a thank you to my best friend, who is all of this and more
I like to pretend that I would slam the door in your face if I found you on my doorstep five years from now. I like to think that, given what happened, I’d tell you to get lost and never call me again. If you’d ask why, I’d list all the things you’d ever done to me, all the times you’d broken my heart and made me feel like being myself wasn’t enough. I like to pretend I’d recognise you for the waste of time and tears you were. That you still are.
But there is that small part of me that is afraid. That small part of me that would hold open the door for you and invite you in, the part that would offer you a cup of coffee and remember that you like it with too much sugar. The part of me that still craves your presence on some days and misses the way you brushed my hair from my forehead or
how you laughed too loud or swore too much or let me call you in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep.
There is one thing I’m sure of, though. I hope you never show up on my doorstep again because God, I have no idea what I would do.
When someone’s been gone a long time, at first you save up all the things you want to tell them. You try to keep track of everything in your head. But it’s like trying to hold on to a fistful of sand: all the little bits slip out of your hands, and then you’re just clutching air and grit.
He asked me if I’d go back if I could, if I’d do it all again, with his forehead pressed to mine, with his tears sliding down my cheeks. “Yes,” I said and his body shook with every unsteady rise and fall of his chest. Sympathy and pity alike tore at my heart. He still saw the good in me. He always would, no matter how many times my words hit him like a punch to the jaw, like a knife to the throat. No matter how many times I’d change my mind. He’d never understood that I didn’t want to stay. That I wasn’t one to stay.
“The only reason why I’d do it again is because it made me who I am today. The nights I spent lying awake, tossing and turning. The times I debated whether or not to call you. That hollow feeling in my chest when it was over all of a sudden. Leaving you on your doorstep with tears in your eyes hurt me as much as it hurt you.” But I don’t know how to be different, I added in my head, I don’t know how to stop running. I took a step away from him and wiped his tears from my cheeks. Then I did what I did best. I ran.
In order to move on you need to acknowledge it or it may as well eat you alive.
Pushing it aside isn’t moving on.
You need to let yourself hurt, ache, scream in pain.
Punch the wall at 3 am and watch the blood fall from the bruises on your skin and realize you’re alive, yell at your neighbors for being annoyed by the noise, screw them for trying to stop you from reaching the peace you long for so badly.
Eat pizza and ice-cream until your stomach grows sick and now you can focus on another pain other than the one on your chest.
Isolate yourself from the world for as long as you need, drink, smoke, have nightmares.
Allow yourself to be immersed on a pit of self pity because you deserve it.
You deserve to feel pity for yourself because you were hurt and are still hurting.
Immerse yourself so you can fix yourself.
It doesn’t matter how long it takes.
Then rise from that pit and don’t look back.
Start doing the things you’ve always wanted to do and don’t feel bad for focusing on the one person that was and will always matter the most, yourself.
Acknowledge the pain but don’t let it get you down anymore for you are not the person you were 15 minutes ago, imagine 4 months ago.
Allow your heart to look for somebody else because sometimes the only way is to find someone that truly deserves all you have to offer.
Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, it means letting go of something that no longer serves and deserves you.
This how to move on (kind of) - Mariana Teles Fernandes