How You Become The Writer You Always Wanted To Be

Reblog from: Thought Catalog
Original Author: Ella Ceron 

You will not begin with greatness. You will begin with putting words down on a page.

You will write because you want to, because you feel like you should. Because something in you was sparked one day in English class. Because you’re bored, because there is nothing else better to do, because somebody gave you a diary one year for your birthday and you figured you might as well try to use it. Because doing so sorts out racing thoughts and messy feelings.

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"No amount of guilt can change the past and no amount of worrying can change the future. Go easy on yourself for the outcome of all affairs is determined by God's Decree. If something is meant to go elsewhere, it will never come on your way, but if it is yours by destiny, from it you cannot flee.''

—Umar ibn al-Khattab r.a

5 Things Writing Has Taught Me About Love

Reblog from: Thought Catalog

Original Author: Matthew Begbie

1. Remember The Details

Writers are taught to pay attention to detail.

They remember the big things, the small things, and the things that never happened at all. They remember that yellow shirt from the 80s you wore the first time you met. They remember the first compliment they gave you and the way the four strangers at the table by the window smiled like they knew just how desperately it had been clawing to get out. Writers remember the first and only time you said “I love you” and how you meant it the way a sailor loves the wind, dependent and reliant. They can recall the stories you told to pass the time when you missed your train stop and all the stops they missed themselves. In the end, those are the things that matter the most.

Discriminatory Love

Whoever says love is blind, they must be the ones who are blind. Because in fact, most of times love always involves and requires what the eyes see and brain interprets. That being said, love isn't blind. Love depends on sight. Albeit it's different case for blind people, which there love might require hearing by ears instead of sight by eyes, but at least there love is not deaf either.

Because in the love matter of real world, everything should be first defined by interpretation in accordance with certain parameters; definition comes first, love later. So it's the moment when you've realized by eyes that eye-shape matters, that skin color matters, that face matters, that hair matters, that words in ID Card showing religion affiliation matters, that ethnicity matters, that everything our eyes see then processed in brain then interpreted based on our associated-memories matters. Love is not blind at all that way.

Almost Is Never Enough

Song Title: Almost is Never Enough
Vocal by: Ariana Grande featuring Nathan Skyes

I'd like to say we gave it a try

I'd like to blame it all on life

Maybe we just weren't right, but that's a lie, that's a lie

To The Sea, And Find Out What Your Honest Self Whispers

Taken by my little sister using her new semi-DSLR camera

To the sea, and we'll get surprised of what miracle it gives unto us. We'll be faced to the true self of ours that we've been running away from or we've hidden inside the subconsciousness. The universe will descend itself in the form of touch of nature, of sounds of wind that blows and waves that crash each other. The nature will drag us deeper and deeper, further and further. Before we realize it, we're already stranded in wholly different dimension from we regularly live.

My little sister and I spent new year visiting my little brother who was having his last month of clerkship in an island famous for its nature view of the beach. We didn't really have much of detour for the tourism of the island, though, but the homestay is very near to a beach. This beach, unlike the more well-known beach in that island, was not really crowded and thus we could have more space for ourselves there.

Reblog: This Is How You Almost Date Someone

Reblog from thought catalog
author: Ella Ceron 

We existed in the strange in-between of the possible and the probable. It was in the unsaid, in the expected, in the logical next steps. Our friends accepted it, anticipated it, shook their heads and said, “It’s only a matter of time.” They’d ask sly questions and accuse us outright, and all we ever managed were shy smiles and hopeful maybes. We were almost dating. We almost dated.