Farahquotes

When you grow up, certain memories come crawling back. Usually the ones you spent years trying to bury. They are so painful that you begin to wonder if they really happened at all. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe your mind made it up. I have memories like that. The moment they surface, I push them back down. Go back. Stay where you’ve been all these years. But how do people heal from things they never talk about? How do you accept that you were young and it was never your fault? And if it wasn’t your fault, then whose was it? Sometimes I hate myself for what happened. More often, I hate the person I became afterward - the things I tolerated, the things I agreed to, all because I wanted to be loved. ~ farah

Death has taken so many people from me that I have become sensitive to it. It makes me feel helpless. There is something deeply unsettling about knowing that no matter how much we love someone, we have no control over whether they stay. At one point, I believed death was the kindest way to lose a person. I do not think that anymore. Now I feel that even if someone is no longer a part of my life, I am grateful that they are somewhere in this world, alive and breathing under the same sky. ~ farah

You who always want something from me, can’t you see my pale face, my dark circles, my broken heart, my crushed soul? You keep asking, you keep wanting, you keep taking… Can’t you just let me be? Can’t you just let me die? You keep waking me up, you keep pulling me back, only because you want something more from me. But I’ve already given you everything. There is nothing left. I’m empty. Can’t you just let me go? Why must I keep existing for you? Why can’t you, for once, think about me and let me die? ~ farah

I lose interest in things so easily. One minute, I’m excited about something; the next, it feels futile, and I no longer want to do it. It’s as if I’ve lost all my energy. All I want to do is sleep. It happens so often now. Sometimes, all it takes is a single comment from someone, and suddenly nothing feels worthwhile anymore. Everything I was looking forward to loses its meaning. Then my mind drifts to death. I find myself thinking that maybe only then will my misery end. One day, I’m excited to be alive, making plans, imagining a future. The next, I crave death like a person lost in the desert craves water. I swing between wanting to live and wanting it all to be over, never knowing which version of myself will greet me when I wake up tomorrow. ~ farah

I have always believed that the people who say, “I don’t care,” are often the ones who care the most. Not because they are dishonest, but because caring is vulnerable. It is easier to act indifferent than to admit that something, or someone, has the power to affect us. Yet beneath all our masks and defenses, I think we all care more than we are willing to admit. We care about ourselves. We care about the people we love. We care about being seen, valued, respected, and understood. We care about things both big and small, even when we convince ourselves otherwise. ~ farah

I wish I was a pet in my house. My mother would baby-talk to me instead of raising her voice. She would never look at me with disappointment. I would not have to measure every word before speaking or live in fear. She would love me simply because I exist. Everyone would adore me. No one would expect perfection from me. I would not have to constantly prove that I am worthy of being here. And the strangest part is that I would not even need to speak. I would be fed when I am hungry, held when I seek comfort, bathed, cared for, taken on walks, hugged, kissed, cherished. My silence would not be misunderstood. My existence alone would be enough to deserve affection. Oh, how heartbreaking. How strange that it feels easier to imagine being loved as a pet than as a daughter in my own home. ~ farah

I’ve never considered taking my life. But I want it to end on its own. There’s nothing about it that excites me. There’s no spark, no drive, just an overwhelming desire for it all to end quietly. While others think about longevity, I’m drawn to the idea of an early ending. Life feels more like something I’m enduring rather than experiencing. Living feels like a curse, a relentless cycle that drains every ounce of energy. I’ve become detached from the world around me. People feel distant, life feels hollow, and everything seems like a monotonous passage of time. ~ farah

Love was never quiet in my house. It was loud and devastating and impossible to hold without bleeding. And sometimes I hear my mother in me. In the way I break things when I feel too much. In the way I push people away before they can leave on their own. In the way I take back every soft thing I say because being loving for too long makes me feel exposed, weak, ashamed. I spent so much of my life promising myself I would become different. Softer. Kinder. Easier to love. But no matter how hard I try, there are days I feel her living inside me like an old wound stitched into my bones. And it terrifies me. The thought that maybe pain is inherited. Maybe some people do not pass down jewelry or recipes or family heirlooms. Maybe they pass down rage. Maybe they pass down the inability to love without destruction attached to it. ~ farah

Love was never quiet in my house. It was loud and devastating, impossible to hold without bleeding. So I love like that. In the way I break things when I feel too much. In the way I push people away before they can leave on their own. In the way I take back every soft thing I say, because being loving for too long makes me feel exposed, weak, ashamed. As if tenderness is something punishable. As if love is only real when it hurts.