I don’t understand. I really just wish I could hear your thoughts.

I don’t understand. I really just wish I could hear your thoughts.

I’ve come to hate aimless thoughts floating in my head. I don’t know what to think about them and i just wish they could be eliminated the way i can eliminate feelings. But for some peculiar reason, thoughts arent the same. I can choose to be indifferent about my feelings but i cant seem to put an end to them thoughts. Ever tried comparing innocence from ignorance? and figuring out how different they both really are from oblivion?
I guess these thoughts are partly moulded on the basis of being around kids who place great hope in the whole notion of ‘hope’. I dont blame them since they too, are kids engulfed by the same idea of being kids. Anyway, they cry. And they cry alot. And they cry only to stop at the comfort of their mothers or more often than not, yet another nurse (who honestly is probably juggling way more promises than she can handle.) They say it’s okay.They say It’s only for a short while but it isn’t, it’s never short. Poking into their hands is still poking and no matter how many times you repeat that it’s okay it really never is.
I wonder whether it’s okay serves to comfort the children? Because truthfully, it may very well be quite useful in comforting themselves for inflicting pain on these poor children. Also, i think this reverie im in is not so much a reverie as it is a perplex nightmare since im no longer the kid who holds on dearly on the hope that she wont be the next nurse offering her unreliable pinky to the poor tiny humans. 

I’ve come to hate aimless thoughts floating in my head. I don’t know what to think about them and i just wish they could be eliminated the way i can eliminate feelings. But for some peculiar reason, thoughts arent the same. I can choose to be indifferent about my feelings but i cant seem to put an end to them thoughts. Ever tried comparing innocence from ignorance? and figuring out how different they both really are from oblivion?

I guess these thoughts are partly moulded on the basis of being around kids who place great hope in the whole notion of ‘hope’. I dont blame them since they too, are kids engulfed by the same idea of being kids. Anyway, they cry. And they cry alot. And they cry only to stop at the comfort of their mothers or more often than not, yet another nurse (who honestly is probably juggling way more promises than she can handle.) They say it’s okay.They say It’s only for a short while but it isn’t, it’s never short. Poking into their hands is still poking and no matter how many times you repeat that it’s okay it really never is.

I wonder whether it’s okay serves to comfort the children? Because truthfully, it may very well be quite useful in comforting themselves for inflicting pain on these poor children. Also, i think this reverie im in is not so much a reverie as it is a perplex nightmare since im no longer the kid who holds on dearly on the hope that she wont be the next nurse offering her unreliable pinky to the poor tiny humans. 

(via gronne-diamanter)

Humaira Ahmad
19 on 30th December

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