More feeling than I show, more depth than words can holdโฆ and a few naughty thoughts. Never leave what you feel unspoken.๐ โ๏ธ โ๏ธ Sun lover โข๐ healthy life
deep in my soul
Joined January 2025
- Tweets63K
- Following3.9K
- Followers7K
- Likes31K
๐ถ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ถ retweeted
Good morning โ๏ธโ๏ธ
โ๏ธ
Most of the tension we carry comes from a question we rarely say out loud: โWhat will people think?โ
We rehearse conversations, soften opinions, delay decisions, and second-guess ourselves, all to manage how we might be perceived. Itโs exhausting. And most of the time, the people weโre performing for arenโt even paying attention.
Thereโs a quieter alternative: I donโt care.
Not in the sense of becoming indifferent or careless with others, but in the sense of no longer letting imaginary judgment run your life. That single shift removes a surprising amount of noise. Decisions get simpler. Relationships get clearer. You stop spending energy on reactions that may never come.
When you stop asking what others will think and start asking what you actually think, a lot of problems lose their weight. Not all of them. But most of the ones you create for yourself.
What would you do today if that question stopped mattering?
๐ค Made with AI
Good morning โ๏ธโ๏ธ
โ๏ธ
Most of the tension we carry comes from a question we rarely say out loud: โWhat will people think?โ
We rehearse conversations, soften opinions, delay decisions, and second-guess ourselves, all to manage how we might be perceived. Itโs exhausting. And most of the time, the people weโre performing for arenโt even paying attention.
Thereโs a quieter alternative: I donโt care.
Not in the sense of becoming indifferent or careless with others, but in the sense of no longer letting imaginary judgment run your life. That single shift removes a surprising amount of noise. Decisions get simpler. Relationships get clearer. You stop spending energy on reactions that may never come.
When you stop asking what others will think and start asking what you actually think, a lot of problems lose their weight. Not all of them. But most of the ones you create for yourself.
What would you do today if that question stopped mattering?
๐ค Made with AI
๐ถ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ถ retweeted
Hay dรญas en los que volver a sentir algo importa mรกs que llegar a tiempo.
ยฉ@ojosesqui ยฎ
๐ถ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ถ retweeted
It couldnโt have been an illusion.
Everything I felt
was real.
But the last time
I touched your hand, I
pulled back in shock.
There was absolutely
nothing left to feel.
#vss365
๐ถ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ถ retweeted
Te lo dirรฉ en tres palabras ...
eres mi pensamiento,
te lo dirรฉ en unas cuantas mรกs,
provocas mis sentidos,
sensual y romรกntica,
para tomarte entre mis brazos
y moverte al compรกs de mis manos,
llenarte de dulces besos
y salvaje caricias,
deseo....
๐ถ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ถ retweeted
Iโll be quiet here for a little while.
Some words need to be lived before theyโre written.
๐ถ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ถ retweeted
Do not abandon tomorrow because yesterday was unkindโฆโฆ.
๐ค Made with AI
๐ถ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ถ retweeted
Trovare il tempo per rallentare, respirare e leggere immersi nei colori dell'autunno.
La felicitร , a volte, abita nelle cose piรน semplici.
Buongiorno a tutti โ๏ธโค๏ธ
๐ถ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ถ retweeted
ฮฃฯ
ฮฝฮทฮธฮฏฯฮฑฮผฮต ฮฮฑ ฮฮฟฮนฯฮฌฮถฮฟฯ
ฮผฮต ฮ ฮตฯฮนฯฯฯฯฮตฯฮฟ ฮฮบฮตฮฏฮฝฮฑ ฮ ฮฟฯ
ฮฮฑฯ ฮฮตฮฏฯฮฟฯ
ฮฝ...
ฮฮฑฮน ฮฮฌฯฯฯ ฮฯฯฮน ฮฮฌฮธฮฑฮผฮต.. ฮฯฮฑ ฮฅฯฮฌฯฯฮฟฯ
ฮฝ ฮฯฯฯ ฮฮฑฯ ฮฮฑฮน ฮฮฏฯฮปฮฑ ฮฮฑฯ ฮฮฑ ฮฮฏฮฝฮฟฮฝฯฮฑฮน
ฮฃฯฮตฮดฯฮฝ ฮฮฮกฮฮคฮ....
๐ถ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ถ retweeted
Perhaps you
don't miss
the person alone.
You miss
who you were
when their
presence made
those rooms
feel alive.
That's why
some homes
remain empty
long after
someone leaves.
๐ถ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ถ retweeted
๐๐ฎ๐บ๐ฝ ๐๐ฒ๐ณ๐ ๐๐๐ฟ๐ป๐ถ๐ป๐ด
At first, every creak in the cabin
sounds like someone coming home.
Then one night the old boards settle
and you keep reading.
Mornings, the axe opens each log
to its pale, dry heart.
You split enough to carry
a little warmth through the dark,
bring an armful in,
brush the bark from your sleeves,
set the kettle on.
Your hands learn the shape of the days:
the worn place on the axe handle,
the stove latch one finger lifts,
the cup you reach for in the dark.
Some afternoons you walk to the creek,
where the water keeps talking
under its thin roof of ice.
You stand there until the last light
leaves the tops of the pines.
Then, through the trees,
one square of amber in the blue,
and the small gladness
of coming home to the lamp
you left burning for yourself.
Later the tea goes cold beside you.
Beyond the glass, snow gathers
first in the heels of your tracks,
then where your toes pressed deepest.
You turn another page.
You had forgotten
how much you liked your life
when you could hear yourself living it.
