Showing posts tagged stories.
Ask me anything   I am a musically inclined person,there goes my heart...
I like using ^_~. as my sig icon.
lilies,butterflies,cooking,watches,videos,porcelain dolls,snowglobes,reading,vintage,sleeping,photos.
I want to travel the World!!!
A Scorpio.. O_o.
people say I'm different,it feels liberating.
Wife to my bestfriend, and Mom to a wonderful little girl..
I have my greatest faith on my God,he's forever my aid..

And This, is the haven of my Life, and Love..

"Saying good-bye to you today is the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do, and when I get back, I can honestly swear that I’ll never do it again. I love you now for what we’ve already shared and I love now in anticipation for all that’s to come. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I miss you already, but I’m sure in my heart that you’ll be with me always. In the past few days I spent with you, you became my dream."
Nicholas Sparks (Nights in Rodanthe)
— 2 years ago with 3 notes
#love  #quotes  #life  #relationships  #stories  #dreams 
Faces of Love (The Diary)

Now as times passed by, I grew more timid and reserved. I made a few friends in my new environment and settled on the simplicity of life. Though I was always taking a step back, my mind often wander., and expectations were accelerating. I knew that I was on the height of my adolescence and risks are synonymous to thrills. Months later,  and after a few school traumas Tan came into the picture. He was, I think, the most malignant part of my higschool life story. For once, a lot of life turning events happened upon our meeting. It was almost half of my sophomore year when our group of friends met.  He was courteous in his actions and very mature with his age. He treated girls with out most respect, that even our class president favored him to help her with chores after class. Girls were very vocal with their attraction to him. They were drawn by his kind persona. Tan openly shared most of his thoughts with me. The chemistry was in an instant. He would accompany me to the library and sometimes we will walk together during lunch breaks (that time, students who lived nearby were allowed to have lunch passes, so they could go home and have their breaks at their place). When we talk, his humor never fail to amaze me. I just thought he would be a great friend. Then I heard from a close mate that he broke up with his girlfriend. I was worried, but he seemed less than sad. He was still himself and somehow, I felt glad.

Days went on, and the closeness we had raised some levels. We were having a school play and I was to portray the heroine. He was assigned with the props and tasks were a lot heavier. The group decided to held practice on one of our classmates house and that is where we got really close. He asked me then If he could court me. I said that it was not my priority, and I would appreciate him more if we were friends. On the other hand, I had an issue with one of my classmates which is also the Director of the play. I had this feeling that he did not really like me but shoved that thought away. I was thinking why would he choose me to play the lead role if he had so much angst about me in the first place?. Things went on, until one day during rehearsals, the director deliberately started a fight with me in front of the class. He started saying things and as he close in, I was ready to hit back if he press his hands on me. It was all so sudden when Tan came and walked in. He just stood with his back in front of me and stared quietly at our class director. Then he grabbed my hand and brought me at the next room followed by our friends. I heard the class director cursed lightly.

That was the first time that some boy tried to protect me. I did not need it. I could definitely put down that half girl man. Nevertheless, I could not deny the feeling of relief and warmth slowly residing in my heart. I appreciate his thoughts. And there is no way I could deny the fact that I liked him even more. A few months and I submitted to his request. I agreed because I wanted him. I even prayed God for signs and Heaven must be making fun of me, they agreed with anything I asked.

During play rehearsals, he would dreamily stare at me. He would gladly scream his feelings in front of everybody else out of nowhere. It was embarrassing, but that made him even more adorable with the crowd. He was not scared to show his emotions. That was something, So he was liked. We would often stay an hour late outside school, together with friends and play ball. Our friends would make fun of us because we would not sit close together. There is a “one foot apart” rule. Though we looked silly, It was fine with him. He respected me a lot. Then we would take longer roads so we could talk more. And I can sometimes catch myself wishing for time to stop.

I told my mother about Tan. Her reaction was more calm but she could not agree with me either. That night the topic reached my father’s ears. He was as what you would expect a father of a 14 year old girl would react., He was against it. I was told to discontinue the relationship. My grandmother got sick and we were asked to move back to our old house. This time, change schools were no longer an option. They trusted me enough to do as they wished. The following day, I told Tan about the conversation I had with my parents. I was not strong enough to fight against them. Maybe because deep inside, I knew I still have a long way to go. I was glad to feel what I felt but that was it. He said he understand but I was surprised to see him cry. That was the first time I saw him cry and he didn’t care.

We continued with our own ways for some time (insert short story; Candies, for later). I was partly happy with everything that’s going on. I met a few more friends, And a realization came that I wanted to enjoy life as it is now. Group studies, adoration from individuals of the other sex, the fun of being alive and restless. Young as I am, I don’t want to be tied down on a puppy love that I could not even fight for myself. I was not ready to begin with. Few months later, and we were both surprised to find ourselves on one class gathering at a friends house. He got the chance to talk to me alone and express what he feels since the last time. He told me that he asked his father about the situation he is in now and was advised to talk to my parents. That is, if and only if, he is really serious with the decision. I told him It wont be easy but I was overwhelmed with his sincerity. He can’t possibly be serious with this at his age. But I remember looking at his eyes and I could clearly see myself. He cared for me that much. I held his hand and told him I would talk with my parents first. Fast forward time, we got back together.

All the while, I was secretly keeping a diary for him. I felt he was the most important person to me then. Time came when he was even free to drop by our house once a week and eat meals and he would stay until late afternoon. We would pass time just talking and doing school journals. Our bond was like never before and I would cheerfully update my friends of this. But one fine day, just when he was about to leave, he turned back and slightly kissed me (I was fast enough to turn my head and it landed on my my cheek). I was not ready, I was shocked and suddenly pure cold sent shiver through my body. I was mad. And mad as I was, I pushed him out the door. I didn’t even look out to see if he was gone.  Eyes shut and wet with tears I called one of our guy friends and told him about the incident. He was laughing at the other line and that really upset me more. “How could guys be so heartless to try to steal a girls first kiss?.” I was down but manage to make a sly decision. I don’t want to see him anymore. I was scared and I didn’t understand why. I did not understand why I was so furious. Something felt terribly wrong. We broke up for the second time. (okay, so, that would really be a lame excuse for a breakup but what am I supposed to do? It wasn’t anything near romantic!)

(short story of the Golden Boy: Swan)

A year later, and it was my senior year in higschool. We kept ourselves apart. And I manage not to even look at him at the corridor. One day, one of our friends asked me to go church. They told me Tan would be there and probably, not a good sight seeing him with his new girlfriend. I told them It’s okay and that I can hold myself to focus on the service. I told them I don’t care. But just as when the mass started, Tan went up the altar(he was an acolyte) accompanied by his girlfriend(which is also an acolyte..). It was a mistake to even peak. They looked so serene together doing their serve. The priest looked ecstatic. Then I thought I saw Tan looked my way, I felt the need to faint and breathing seemed impossible. I had no regrets in our past but I felt pain. As soon as I got home, I rushed to the bathroom and started crying. I didn’t know why the tears won’t stop. They came rushing one after another. It all seemed to be the longest and silent time in my life.

Quite grown up, I got involved with another boy(which I used to get even.. short story: Perfumed Letters will be in here..). Tan, approached me out of nowhere and asked how I was. I acted unsurprised and took a come back question. He said that I was dating a fine guy and that he was happy for me. Our group of friends were persistent on getting us back together, packed with a lot of issues here and there. They did not stop even though hearts will eventually break. They insisted that we should be together with each other and not with anyone else. And after quite sometime, less tears were shed, I realized I was just fooling myself and that I should give it another try with Tan. I cannot remember how we got back the third time, but we did. It lasted a month or two and ended deliberately., For good. Apparently, my father went ill and passed away at this period, and I started seeing things more openly.

Tan, He was too mature for his age, and I really can’t put up with that. I feel like I’ll be pushing myself too far If I continue. I have dreams but It doesn’t include him at all. I tried, and that made me even more stronger to conclude. I knew I truthfully cared for him back then, but that love was not enough to make me stay. I did not see my future with him and I honestly felt It was just good while it lasted. We haven’t talked much since then. Until now, I  still don’t find the words that would justify my feelings towards him. Maybe I really loved him, or maybe, back then, he was just the best one to comfort and protect me. He showed me happiness and he showed me pain. He even opened my eyes from fear.

And those marked the beginning of the times when my search for understanding of true love started.

— 3 years ago with 1 note
#Itsmeissa  #thoughts  #stories  #memories  #love  #life  #encounters 
Faces of Love (HeartBeats)


They say, Life would be meaningless only if we allow it to be.  I say life alone is empty. That is why, we have to live. It is nothing compared to a house without anyone to make it a home. The scorching sunlight, the busy streets, crazy schedules, higschool life, drunken nights, live music, overrated parents, broken window shileds, carousels, rainbows, fairytales- there are a lot of things to be happy about. Also, a lot to feel sorry about.  A lot of things to get busy with, and those priorities we ignore to seize. But no matter how far our step takes us, we can never truly run away. I believe that our fate is written even before our birth. Even so in life, we are always on our own. Will we make it happen? will we tremble? or will we be able to take shift. I realized mine too early but I only started to amplify when I graduated from college. That was far too late. But that was also, my  prolonged judgement. There are only 3 things that governed my life in a major way. First, is happiness. Second, I want to call it the “infinite hope”. And third, my abominable curiosity for true love.


I was 12 when I met the first male specie for this role. For this story, I will call him Punky. Well Punky was a drummer in a school established band. A lot of girls liked him practically because he was rich and basically because he was a hearthrob. Our school back then only had two sections for first year highschool(making a crowd of less than a hundred for all higschool students), so looking back, he was famous because there is minimum amount of competition ( Now, I am just stating statics. They even told me I was one of the prettiest back then. And I am not girlie pretty. So this goes for me too. ha!). I was a transferee from a public school and getting in a private school that year was a complete nuisance. The fact that someone like him favored me made me feel special, He was stupid but he exerted a little effort. He was talented and I got attracted to his boyish nature. That kind of feeling you get when you encountered boys on that manner for the first time. The first smile, the first stare, the first anxiety attack! It was all new.

The classroom adviser was a young woman who enjoyed flirting with one of my friends/classmates, so courtship between boys and girls our age was far from being a responsibility. She absolutely led us on. Paired us at school projects, and even encouraged him to be my escort at one school function. Then one day, during those contemporary event, Punky was asked to perform with his band. I was staring at him on stage through one of the windows inside the school building. I watched him inside that dim lit room and he looked so luminous. His performance was not that smooth but it was effortless. And then I saw a girl clapping vigorously at the side. One of his girl fellow approached me and told me that the girl was her childhood sweetheart. I was shy enough to get noticed staring, but I thought I felt my heart sank. Then one of his friends told me that Punky liked me very much and that he really didn’t know how to put up with himself in my presence. Just about, I saw Punky looked straight at me, and glared down his head anxiously. It seemed like everyone knew and was excited on what was happening and that, really raised my curiosity. Suddenly, the girl fellow suggested that we should try to get to know each other more. I was hesitant. I was too young and that’s the truth. Hell! I could never tell my parents about that! I was just about to speak up when our friend shouted, “Okay na! o payag kana ah?.. yihee!(Now, It’s okay. You agree right?.. yihee!)”. I wanted to protest but shamelessly, I felt good. I just smiled and I thought about his childhood sweetheart that I completely got carried out. The girl(who was talking to me) carelessly run away calling out his name and I saw him quite surprised but smiling as she was fast approaching. I thought he was just overhearing what she’s saying. Moments later he was back in the room. Hands in his pocket, Punky is sheepishly approaching. We talked, and agreed mutually.

As the end of the school year approached, My mom found out about my foolish infatuation and was furious. She talked about it with my dad and they agreed to transfer me to another school so that I could focus on my studies. Besides, Mom wanted to move out and finances were bad. We left the old house, and I left Punky and the old school.

Though we never cut ties, we kept our lines open and once he visited me at the new academy. After sometime, the conversations became less and he never got to see me anymore. Until one day, one of his friends(the same friend he used to confess with me) told me that  Punky is thinking about breaking things up. I was not surprised being dumped at all Knowing his personality and his cowardliness, I saw all of this coming. He wasn’t even man enough to ask me out, why would he have the guts to break my heart. He was just a boy.

That night, before I went to sleep, I cried for a minute or two then got my thoughts straight.

That was my first encounter with their kind. And It was not as pretty. More like, freshly picked strawberries, It was bittersweet.

— 3 years ago
#Itsmeissa  #heartbreak  #life  #love  #memories  #stories  #thoughts  #tagalog 
Marry Me

The first time I asked her to marry me was when we were six years old.

"I’ll be the husband," I said, "and you can be the wife."
"No," she replied simply.
"Yes," I said.
"No," she replied again and walked off.
After a few moments, I walked off too. It’s no fun playing house alone.

The second time I asked her to marry me, was when we were fourteen. We were partners in a dance for the annual school program and I was waiting for her to come out of the dressing room. I was dressed in a black suit and bowtie. As she stepped out of the dressing room in a pink dress that came down to her knees, I took a deep breath. She looked like an angel that had just stepped down from the heavens. As we waited for the teachers to give the signal for us to get on stage, I stared at her and tried to find my voice. She caught me looking and smiled as she asked, “What are you looking at?”
"Will you marry me?" I blurted out.
Her smile turned into a grin, and a second later she burst out laughing. I didn’t mind. I could see stars in her eyes. Still laughing, she took my hand and led me onto the stage.

The third time I asked her to marry me was on her sixteenth birthday. We were at a picnic with friends and the two of us were sitting by ourselves under a tree as the rest argued about which game to play next. She laughed at something someone was talking about in the distance. I heard the tinkling of bells in her voice. I plucked a daisy that was growing nearby and gave it to her as I said, “Will you be my wife?”
She blushed as she looked at the flower, and then burst out laughing again. She took the flower and ran to join the rest of the group. I followed.

The fourth time, we were eighteen. We were sitting in the cafeteria in college as she sat sipping on a glass of orange juice and telling me how beautiful the last poem she read had been. After speaking continuously for a few minutes, she stopped and said, “What happened? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
I looked into her eyes and said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
As before, she burst out laughing again and said, “You’re not old enough to get married yet.” And then she started talking about another poem.

The fifth time I asked her to marry me was the day of our graduation. We were both twenty-one. I got down on one knee with a red rose in my hand and said to her, “Will you, now, take me to be your husband?”
She grinned this time, and replied, “You’re always in a hurry. You wanted to do your post-graduation, right?”
I shrugged, got back on my feet, and walked with her to the convocation hall.

"Well?" I asked. "Do you think I’ve changed my mind?" 

She frowned as she said, “I don’t know.” She looked beautiful even when she frowned.
I watched her for a few seconds and said, “Why don’t you ask me to marry you this time?”
"Me?" she replied, eyes wide in surprise.
"Why?" I asked. "What’s wrong with that?"
She blushed. “No,” she said.
"Are you rejecting me again?" I asked.
"No, no!" she said quickly.
"So then you are saying ‘Yes’?"
She stuck her tongue out at me as she realized what I was trying to do, and went back to eating her ice cream.
"Hey," I said, as I took her hand in mine. "Marry me."
She scrunched up her nose as she replied, “Are you sure?”
I’d been sure since I was six. “Yes,” I said simply.
And she just smiled and nodded.

Four years later, I had finished my post-graduation and had a job in a multinational company. We were sitting in an ice cream shop when she brought it up. “You haven’t asked me to marry you in four years,” she said. “What happened? Did you change your mind?” She was smiling widely.
"What do you think?" I teased.
"I think you’re afraid I’ll reject you again."
"You haven’t really rejected me even once, till now," I countered. "You never really said ‘No’."
"I did when we were six," she pointed out.
"She remembers", I thought to myself, as I smiled at the memory.
I held out a spoon of ice cream for her to taste, and said, “Alright, so you rejected me once.”
"So?" she asked as she tasted my ice cream.
"So nothing," I replied.
She rolled her eyes in silence. She was no longer smiling.


— 3 years ago with 9 notes
#stories  #articles  #love  #marriage  #happiness 
Red Roses

Red roses were her favorites, her name was also Rose. And every year her husband sent them, tied with pretty bows. The year he died, the roses were delivered to her door. The card said, “Be my Valentine,” like all the years before.

Each year he sent her roses, and the note would always say, “I love you even more this year, than last year on this day.” “My love for you will always grow, with every passing year.” She knew this was the last time that the roses would appear.

She thought, he ordered roses in advance before this day. Her loving husband did not know, that he would pass away. He always liked to do things early, way before the time. Then, if he got too busy, everything would work out fine.

She trimmed the stems, and placed them in a very special vase. Then, sat the vase beside the portrait of his smiling face. She would sit for hours, in her husband’s favorite chair. While staring at his picture, and the roses sitting there.

A year went by, and it was hard to live without her mate. With loneliness and solitude, that had become her fate. Then, the very hour, as on Valentines before, The doorbell rang, and there were roses, sitting by her door.

She brought the roses in, and then just looked at them in shock. Then, went to get the telephone, to call the florist shop. The owner answered, and she asked him, if he would explain. Why would someone do this to her, causing her such pain?
"I know your husband passed away, more than a year ago," The owner said, "I knew you’d call, and you would want to know.""The flowers you received today, were paid for in advance." "Your husband always planned ahead, he left nothing to chance."
"There is a standing order, that I have on file down here, And he has paid, well in advance, you’ll get them every year.

There also is another thing, that I think you should know, He wrote a special little card…he did this years ago.” “Then, should ever, I find out that he’s no longer here, That’s the card…that should be sent, to you the following year.”She thanked him and hung up the phone, her tears now flowing hard. Her fingers shaking, as she slowly reached to get the card. Inside the card, she saw that he had written her a note. Then, as she stared in total silence, this is what he wrote…

"Hello my love, I know it’s been a year since I’ve been gone, I hope it hasn’t been too hard for you to overcome."
"I know it must be lonely, and the pain is very real. For if it was the other way, I know how I would feel.

The love we shared made everything so beautiful in life. I loved you more than words can say, you were the perfect wife.” “You were my friend and lover, you fulfilled my every need. I know it’s only been a year, but please try not to grieve.

I want you to be happy, even when you shed your tears. That is why the roses will be sent to you for years.”
"When you get these roses, think of all the happiness, That we had together, and how both of us were blessed.
I have always loved you and I know I always will. But, my love, you must go on, you have some living still.”

"Please…try to find happiness, while living out your days. I know it is not easy, but I hope you find some ways.
The roses will come every year, and they will only stop, When your door’s not answered, when the florist stops toknock.”

"He will come five times that day, in case you have gone out. But after his last visit, he will know without a doubt,

To take the roses to the place, where I’ve instructed him, And place the roses where we are, together once again.”

**Disclaimer: James (PoppyK) Kisner’s poems are copyrighted by Fleeting Moments Publishing and may not be reproduced without permission. All copies of poems MUST include these credits.


— 3 years ago with 3 notes
#love  #stories  #articles  #forever 
Untold Love Story

My name is Yagmur (it means “rain”). I was born in rural Turkey, in a village. Generally Turkish women enjoy many freedoms, which our Arab sisters 
cant even think of. Rural Turkey is a different story. Honour killings take place every day, women dont have much say (if any) in household matters and 
female employment is out of question. However, much hard work is done by women because men dont want to strain themselves; women are like cattle or slaves. 

If husband tells you to do something, you have to obey. 

My mother was a fairly educated woman, she taught me at home and I even went to school. My hobby was reading books. Through them I learnt different languages and acquired a lot of knowledge. 

I was a disciplined and obedient girl, unlike my sister who was somewhat uppity. When she was 18, she fell in love with a young man. They both loved each other but he was meant for another girl, thus his parents had decided. Dating is utterly forbidden in Islam, marriages are arranged and often young people meet on their wedding day. 

My sister was rebellious. She dated that young man. Every night she would go to see him. They even kissed and actually their relationship went too far. She got pregnant. At first they planned to run away to a big city where they would be safe. They knew in villages, religion rules and they could be in trouble. Authorities dont care whats going on in rural Turkey. Sometimes imams, mullahs and elders who try to practice Sharia and break the secular state law are punished but usually authorities are more interested in big cities full of tourists and turn a blind eye to what happens in villages. 

I remember their young faces. I didnt understand the whole situation; I was a little girl. But when I looked at them I could see they were happy. Their 
happiness made me happy too and I wanted to smile. 

Instead of eloping, they decided to speak to my father. “Pregnancy is a very good reason to get permission for marriage”, or so they thought. 

Alas, my sister had miscalculated my fathers love for her and his obsession with his religion. He became furious. Instead of letting the two young lovers marry and build their nest of love, he took her to the religious elders and they ruled that she had committed adultery. She was sentenced to death by stoning. They showed no mercy even for her unborn child. She had stained the honour of the family and the only way to remove that stain was to nip her life in the bud. Her unborn baby was a stain too and that little creature had to be destroyed as well, so my family could live honorably. 

In the evening before her execution, she came to my room and told me that she would miss me. She was crying and hugged me to her bosom. Then she smiled and said that soon she would see her unborn baby. I was blissfully unaware of her fate, but I felt that something bad was about to happen. I was so scared! 

I still remember her black eyes; she stared at the sky while she was dug into the ground. She was wrapped in white sheets and her hands were tide to her body. She was buried up to her waist. The rabid mob circled her with stones in their hands and started throwing them at her while the roars of Allah-u-Akbar Allah-u-Akbar added to their frenzy. She twitched with pain as the stones hit her tender body and smashed her head. Blood gushed out from her face, cheeks, mouth, nose and eyes. All she could do was to bend to the left and to the right. Gradually the movements slowed down and finally she stopped moving even though the shower of the stones did not stop. Her head fell on her chest. Her bloodied face remained serene. All the pain had gone. The hysteric mob relented and the chant of Allah-u-Akbar stopped. 

Someone approached and with a big boulder in his hand smashed the scull of my sister to finish her off. There was no need for that; she was already dead. Her bright black eyes that beamed with life were shut. Her jovial laughter that filled the world around her was silenced. Her heart that beat with such a heavenly love for only a short time had stopped. Her unborn baby was not given a chance to breathe one breath of air. He (or she) accompanied his young mother in her solitary and cold tomb, or who knows, maybe to a better place where love 
reigns and pain and ignorance are not known. These two budding lives had to be nipped so my father could keep his honour. 

She wanted to marry a man whom she loved. She dreamt wearing a white wedding dress, that there would be a big ceremony, lots of people would be invited and they all would congratulate her, chant merry songs and throw flowers and confetti at her. Yes there was a ceremony, but it was not her wedding. She was dressed in white but that was not her wedding gown. Lots of people came to the party but they came to curse her and to throw stones at her. No music was played and no merry songs were sang; only screams of Allah-u-Akbar filled the air. The only hug she got was from the cold earth in which she was half buried. The only kisses that she received were from the rocks thrown at her that tore her flesh and broke her bones. They were the kisses of death. She was not 
united with the man whom she loved but was wed to death. 

This was a tragedy for my sisters young lover. His life lost its meaning. He got lashes but nothing more. He could well forget about the whole affair and get along with his life, but he didn’t. I recall seeing him standing in front of our house every day, as if waiting for my sister to come out and meet him. I could see him crying. I can only imagine that when he was not crying in front of our house he was in the cemetery, crying over the grave of his love and his baby. One day he could no more bear his pain and hanged himself. 

His death was hushed and no one talked about it. Maybe no one cared. He was reunited with his love and his baby. No one can hurt them anymore. No one can separate them from one another again. 

It is a sad story. But unlike the story of Romeo and Juliet it is a story that is never told. No one talks about those young lovers. No one sheds tears for them. Not only they were buried, their memories were also buried as if they never existed - their tender love was a shame to others - a shame that had to be washed with blood. 

But the saddest part is that according to Islam my sister deserved that death. The elders were sure she would be burning in Hell for eternity. No, I can’t imagine that God can send someone to Hell for loving and for being happy. I can’t accept a cruel God. 

Now back to my life. When I turned 18, I was married off to a Turkish businessman from Germany. When I came to Germany I found out that he had another wife. He is not a bad man at all. He is very kind, but he is a Muslim. He doesnt understand why Europeans dont like polygamy, for instance. He doesnt allow us to leave the home. He protects our honour in this strange way. 

Then we moved to the UK. Here we are even more isolated than in Germany because there are fewer Turks. In Germany we at least could meet our fellow expats. 

As for my relationship with my husband’s first wife, we are friends. There is some rivalry between us, thats for sure. But I am alone and cant meet anyone or leave home. Her life is just as dull and empty as mine. We cant hate each other; we should be friends to overcome our troubles. My co-wife and I are like two cellmates. We only have each other. There is not much room for antagonism or hard feelings. 

I have 5 children, she has 4. She occupies a more privileged position within our family because she has a son. I have given birth only to daughters so far. 

We are both educated, but she is so obsessed with kids that she has given herself up. I am still trying to grasp at non-existent straws; probably one day I will be freed. I read books, keep myself informed and like to think. She is not remotely interested in reading books or thinking. I am alone. 

Sometimes I think of running away, but I have 5 daughters. I can neither leave them, nor run away with them. Actually, I am stuck. 

Even though I left Islam a long time ago, I cannot stop praying or fasting. My husband keeps a rod for the disobedient. 

When I try to protest, my mouth is shut up with quotes from the Quran. Islam defines our lives. Isnt it stupid that people live according to a book written a long time ago? 

I am not whining about my life but I do hate Islam. At least I could object to certain traditions but Islam preserved the worst in our culture, reducing women into slavery and keeping them ignorant. What can you expect from an 
uneducated woman? 

When I look at my daughters, I pray that they may live in a free world, free from Islam and this slavery. 

Ali, you promised to defeat Islam very soon, so please do it. I know sometimes you must feel like giving up. It seems to me you’ve devoted yourself fully to the good cause of yours. You may feel at times that you will never succeed. I just want to say that you are fighting for women like me. When you despair, think of me and millions of women with similar tragic experiences. Never give up. You are my knight in shining armour. I just want you to know that I am your keen supporter. 

Yagmur Dursun is a pen name. Some details of this story have been changed to hide the identity of the author .

(this is a story I saw in the web. For clarification, I have nothing against Islam or whatsoever. I have my honest respect for the religion and I am friends with the most beautiful Islam people. I just felt deeply moved by the story =()

— 3 years ago with 1 note
#articles  #love  #stories  #tragedy  #religion  #reality  #suffering  #lost love  #women 
The Test

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn’t, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind.

In front of the book, he discovered the previous owner’s name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II

During the next year and one-month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A Romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn’t matter what she looked like.

When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 pm at Grand Central Station in New York.

"You’ll recognize me, " she wrote, "by the red rose I’ll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he’d never seen.

I’ll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened: A young women was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. “Going my way, sailor?” she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A women well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the women whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.

And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful.

I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the women, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. “I’m Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?”

The women’s face broadened into a tolerant smile. “I don’t know what this is about, son,” she answered, “but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!”

It’s not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell’s wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in it’s response to the unattractive. “Tell me whom you love,” Houssaye wrote, “And I will tell you who you are.”

— 3 years ago
#love  #stories  #articles 
First Love

There was a little boy whose first love was a young girl in a picture which he found and picked from the street. As time went by he got married, but still kept it. One day, the wife found it and asked,

"Where did you get this?"

The man said,

"I kept that since I was a child, why?"

The girl replied,

"I lost this picture when I was 9…"

— 3 years ago with 13 notes
#love  #stories  #articles  #first love  #true love 
Paper Cranes

There was once a guy who was very much in love with this girl. This romantic guy folded 1,000 pieces of paper cranes as a gift to his girl. Although, at that time he was just a small executive in his company, his future doesn’t seemed too bright, they were very happy together. Until one day, his girl told him she was going to Paris and will never come back. She also told him that she cannot visualize any future for the both of them, so let’s go their own ways there and then… heartbroken, the guy agreed.

When he regained his confidence, he worked hard day and night, slogging his body and mind just to make something out of himself. Finally with all these hard work and with the help of friends, this guy had set up his own company…
"You never fail until you stop trying." he always told himself. "I must make it in life!"

One rainy day, while this guy was driving, he saw an elderly couple sharing an umbrella in the rain walking to some destination. Even with the umbrella, they were still drenched. It didn’t take him long to realize those were his ex-girlfriend’s parents. With a heart in getting back at them, he drove slowly beside the couple, wanting them to spot him in his luxury sedan. He wanted them to know that he wasn’t the same anymore. He had his own company, car, condo, etc. He had made it in life!

Before the guy can realize, the couple was walking towards a cemetery, and he got out of his car and followed them…and he saw his ex-girlfriend, a photograph of her smiling sweetly as ever at him from her tombstone… and he saw his precious paper cranes in a bottle placed beside her tomb. Her parents saw him. He walked over and asked them why this had happened. They explained, she did not leave for France at all. She was stricken ill with cancer. In her heart, she had believed that he will make it someday, but she did not want her illness to be his obstacle … therefore she had chosen to leave him.

She had wanted her parents to put his paper cranes beside her, because, if the day comes when fate brings him to her again he can take some of those back with him. The guy just wept …the worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them but knowing you can’t have them and will never see them again.

— 3 years ago with 2 notes
#love  #stories  #paper cranes  #courage  #articles  #sad 

This is a very good article. Those who are still single may learn something from here… 

Those who are already married or in a commitment may take it as a guideline to improve your marriage & relationship … 


During one of our seminars, a woman asked a common question. She said, “How do I know if I married the right person?” 
I noticed that there was a large man sitting next to her so I said, “It depends. Is that your husband?” 
In all seriousness, she answered “How do you know?” 

Let me answer this question because the chances are good that it’s weighing on your mind.

Here’s the answer. 
EVERY relationship has a cycle. In the beginning, you fell in love with your spouse/partner. You anticipated their call, wanted their touch, and liked their idiosyncrasies (unconventional behavior/habit) . 

Falling in love with your spouse wasn’t hard. In fact, it was a completely natural and spontaneous experience. 
You didn’t have to DO anything. That’s why it’s called “falling” in love… Because it’s happening TO YOU. 

People in love sometimes say, “I was swept of my feet.” Think about the imagery of that __expression. It implies that you were just standing there; doing nothing, and then something came along and happened TO YOU. 

Falling in love is easy. It’s a passive and spontaneous experience. But after a few years of marriage, the euphoria (excitement) of love fades. It’s the natural cycle of EVERY relationship. Slowly but surely, phone calls become a bother (if they come at all), touch is not always welcome (when it happens), and your spouse’s idiosyncrasies, instead of being cute, drive you nuts. 

The symptoms of this stage vary with every relationship, but if you think about your marriage, you will notice a dramatic difference between the initial stage when you were in love and a much duller or even angry subsequent stage. 

At this point, you and/or your spouse might start asking, “Did I marry the right person?” 
And as you and your spouse reflect on the euphoria of the love you once had, you may begin to desire that experience with someone else. 
This is when marriages or relationship breakdown. People blame their spouse/partner for their unhappiness and look outside their marriage/relationsh ip for fulfillment. 

Extramarital fulfillment comes in all shapes and sizes. Infidelity is the most obvious. 
But sometimes people turn to work, a hobby, excessive TV, or abusive substances. 

But the answer to this dilemma does NOT lie outside your marriage. It lies within it. 
I’m not saying that you couldn’t fall in love with someone else. 
You could. 

And TEMPORARILY you’d feel better. But you’d be in the same situation a few years later. Because (listen carefully to this): 


SUSTAINING love is not a passive or spontaneous experience. It’ll NEVER just happen to you. You can’t “find” LASTING love. You have to “make” it day in and day out. That’s why we have the __expression “the labor of love.” Because it takes time, effort, and energy. And most importantly, it takes WISDOM. You have to know WHAT TO DO to make your marriage/relationsh ip work. Sure true love can only happen after you’ve fallen out of love. When you begin choosing to love, even if you don’t feel like doing it —— that’s true love. And that’s the foundation of a lasting and strong marriage. 

Make no mistake about it. Love is NOT a mystery. There are specific things you can do (with or without your spouse) to succeed with your marriage. 

Just as there are physical laws of the universe (such as gravity), there are also laws for relationships.
Just as the right diet and exercise program makes you physically stronger, certain habits in your relationship WILL make your marriage stronger. 
It’s a direct cause and effect. If you know and apply the laws, the results are predictable. .. you can “make”love. 

Love is indeed a “decision”.. . Not just a feeling. You’ll not just go away with your relationship just because the feeling is gone. In the Bible, love is a command. You make it happen.

Remember this always: 

"God determines who walks into your life. It is up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go." 
FW: Ruth Beltran

"Marriage is more than saying I Do. Marriage, like a precious plant, needs constant tending for it to grow, flourish, and bear fruti to last a lifetime, and beyond."
-David and Evelyn Feliciano

— 3 years ago
#love  #stories  #articles  #marriage  #relationship  #friendship  #forever