Confessions of An Almost Grown Up

And if you call me at 4 am, too sad to even say hello, I will listen to your silence until you fall asleep. If you need to cry I will not wipe your tears away because you are only human and sometimes tears are as close to laughter as you can get and that’s okay. If you get sleepy I will let you drool on my arm and I won’t laugh at you if you snore too loud. If you need to yell so hard that your voice cracks and your knees fail I will hold you up and yell with you. If you get so angry you punch your hands red I will ice your knuckles and tell you that wounds heal both inside and out, and just like the cold that is harsh and burning, I will always be the warmth to soothe you and make you feel better. I will love you.

humansofnewyork:

"I think the great fear of every Tibetan is that our story will die out. It’s been over fifty years now since Tibet lost its independence. Our monasteries have been destroyed. The Chinese language curriculum is being mandated in our schools. More and more Han Chinese are moving into Tibet— building homes, building malls. I think now we are all starting to think that the Chinese are too powerful and that the dream of returning home is fading away. I think our mistake was that we didn’t keep up with the world. We held on to the monastic tradition too tightly. We didn’t embrace modern education, and so we weren’t connected with the outside world. Because of that, we lost our freedom silently. I think our challenge now is to educate our children in a modern way, so hopefully they will be better at sharing our story."
(Dharamshala, India)

humansofnewyork:

"I think the great fear of every Tibetan is that our story will die out. It’s been over fifty years now since Tibet lost its independence. Our monasteries have been destroyed. The Chinese language curriculum is being mandated in our schools. More and more Han Chinese are moving into Tibet— building homes, building malls. I think now we are all starting to think that the Chinese are too powerful and that the dream of returning home is fading away. I think our mistake was that we didn’t keep up with the world. We held on to the monastic tradition too tightly. We didn’t embrace modern education, and so we weren’t connected with the outside world. Because of that, we lost our freedom silently. I think our challenge now is to educate our children in a modern way, so hopefully they will be better at sharing our story."

(Dharamshala, India)

humansofnewyork:

"I came to Dharamshala when I was nine years old. Back then, we weren’t allowed to learn the Tibetan language in school, so my parents sent me to India. For a whole month we walked over the mountains. It was very snowy, and we only walked at night. One night I almost fell off a cliff, but one of the adults grabbed onto my hand and pulled me back up. It’s been twenty years now since I last saw my parents. Just a few months ago, I had a really bad stomach problem and had to go to the hospital. Even though I’m an adult, I’ve never missed my mother more. Being that sick made me realize that I have nobody watching over me."
(Dharamshala, India)

humansofnewyork:

"I came to Dharamshala when I was nine years old. Back then, we weren’t allowed to learn the Tibetan language in school, so my parents sent me to India. For a whole month we walked over the mountains. It was very snowy, and we only walked at night. One night I almost fell off a cliff, but one of the adults grabbed onto my hand and pulled me back up. It’s been twenty years now since I last saw my parents. Just a few months ago, I had a really bad stomach problem and had to go to the hospital. Even though I’m an adult, I’ve never missed my mother more. Being that sick made me realize that I have nobody watching over me."

(Dharamshala, India)

Picture this:
you’re standing at the
tongue-tip edge of
wherever you are,
whatever this is,
and from here
you can almost see
everything.
Lovers waking up
next to each other,
a child discovering art
with her hands,
a lonely park bench finding
company in a weathered man,
the sun whispering
light through windows.
Picture this:
you’re standing at the
edge of the shore
with every wave crashing at your feet,
with every breath in your lungs
exhaling you alive,
and you look around,
and isn’t it beautiful?
My God,
it’s beautiful.

—A.Y // it’s not so bad, after all (via 2wentysixletters)

(via anditslove)