یه جوری درس نمیخونم که انگار از مامان معلما فیلم دارم

من همه‌ی خاطراتم رو نصفه می‌نویسم، تک به تک جزئیات رو شروع می‌کنم به نوشتن و خیلی چیزهایی که اهمیت چندانی ندارن بیش از حد توصیف می‌کنم و بعد کلا نمی‌نویسم. معمولا مهم‌ترین قسمت‌هارو نمی‌نویسم. وقتی به اتاقم نگاه می‌کنم فقط آثار کارهای نصفه‌ و نیمه رو می‌بینم. درس که می‌خونم نصفه‌است، سازی که می‌‌زدم نصفه‌است، نظافت‌‌کاری‌هام نصفه‌است؛ هرکاری تو زندگیم کردم یه تیکه‌اش نیست، مهم‌ترین قسمتش همیشه نیست. اتاقم پره از منِ نصفه نیمه.

The matter has always seemed very simple to you, at least insofar as you’ve talked to me about it and, without any reserve, before many others. It seemed to you to be something along these lines : you’ve worked hard all your life, you’ve sacrificed everything for your children, above all for me, and as a result, I’ve lived "up to the hilt", I had complete freedom to learn what I wanted to, I had no cause to worry about food, and moreover no worries at all ; you didn’t expect gratitude for that, you know all about "the gratitude of children", but you expected at least some kind of agreeable behaviour, some sign of mutual understanding ; instead of that I’ve always kept away from you, in my room, with books, with crazy friends, with extravagant ideas ; I’ve never spoken openly with you, I didn’t come over to you in the temple, I never visited you in Franzensbad nor did I ever have any other sense of family, I’ve never taken any interest in your business or your other affairs, I was a burden for you in the factory and then I left you, I’ve supported Ottla in her obstinacy, and while I never lift a finger for you (I don’t even bring you theatre tickets!), I do everything for my friends. If you summed up your opinion of me it turns out that you don’t reproach me for anything really indecent or evil (with the exception perhaps of my recent intention to marry), but of coldness, of distancing myself from you and of ingratitude. And you reproach me with that as if it were my fault, as if I could have arranged everything differently by going in a different direction, whereas you aren’t the least bit to blame, other than that you were perhaps too good to me.

•Letter to father- Franz kafka

But i can still try

شانسم از صفر درصد هم کمتره

این پیام رو فوروارد کنید چنل پابلیکتون به یک نفر تخفیف ۲۰٪ هدیه بدیم🙂‍↕️💆🏻‍♀️

Not even for a second
Even if she is in the wrong

I'm sorry but I can never stop loving vi

Strange times we're living in
World can put fear in ya
Hierarchy parties, they make us feel inferior
Greed runs through the parliament interior
Devils walk among us, they fit the criteria
Eerie theories strike fear in weary minded men
When we're clearly living in dictatorships
Nearly blinded by illusions to choose
But who's fooling who?
A ball chained to your shoes
I'm pained, it's a crying shame
The pursuit of our own wealth lights a flame
That makes greed a game that lets the whole world burn
As the world turns, the whole world burns
Money was invented for trade
But now those bits of paper twist hearts, make slaves
Turns a saint into a sinner, a child into a killer
His finger on the trigger of a money game