This time is for black, a color that represents mystery, power, elegance, the unknown, fear, respect, sophistication, among other things. What color do you think will be next?
A poem about having to face yourself after the mistakes you've done. 迷失の魂: Lost Soul I don't think you understand. I don't seem to recognize myself anymore. I've lost myself in the mess - In the puzzle we call life. The soulless reflection Provokes me with a blank stare. How will you be rid of me If you don't even know Who it is that you are? I'm one touch away From falling into pieces And I fear once that happens There will be no means of repair. I am all that I have. I am all that I will never be. I am lost and I am found. I am ... I don't know who I am. Written by QueridaChristina P.S. For those of you who read my poem, thank you.🖤
I am somewhat knew to this channel but it has had such an unexpected emotional impact on me. The daily pictures, the variety of feelings encompassed by your playlists- sometimes feels like reconnecting with an old friend. You have a great talent. I feel fortunate to have come across you. Truly
Just wanted to say that I really enjoy your playlists! Not just the music, but the whole aesthetic you put in the naming and the imagery. Each video feels like it's own reality. Really good for writing and making art!
It's weird that when I used to try to imagine nothingness, I would imagine pure blackness like a void. But black is still something. So, in the end, I decided that it's impossible to imagine nothing. Maybe that's why I find "nothingness" scary.
you're honestly my soooooooo. so favourite. you always pick something interesting. i really love this channel and the author. i feel tremendous gratidude for very, very long time.
Black, the color of January, it is the absence of color, a sign of the new year and infinite possibilities and experiences. At least that’s how I see it 😁
Absolutely grateful for these incredible playlists! I have loads of assignments to complete and prep for upcoming exams, and your playlists have been immensely helpful. I hope all of us do well with everything that we are working on. We will survive!
This would be fab on a night that was snowing - sitting in front of a beautiful fire lighting and warming my living room... mystery, elegance, sophistication. Though, too, it could be power, the unknown, fear... depending on how bad the snowstorm was.
This is perfect for writing a character in my book series! I use the cello as his theme instrument, and black is definitely his soul color, even if he isn't a bad guy. He's just a really heavy character with a really heavy past, and this suits him perfectly! Fun fact: the third song - by hendyamps studios - was already on his playlist!
I really enjoy these videos you make and was wondering if you could make another video with like an 50's vibe to it as im obsessed with that. your videos are honestly great and help me sometimes fell asleep
I might as well share parts of my poem here. Since I wrote to it. xD Here's some parts of it. ( In Succession of the Carpe Noctem's Vow ) A global eye upon the arrow’s draw. In aims to puncture star-felt hearts. An elastic snap shall propel in darkened law; To place a once vibrant love in arrest and depart. In truth’s name - ‘tis peaks shall befall in death’s awe. Swollen strings plucked malnourished guitars - To sing a mournful, morbid symphony. Carpe Noctems and Post-Mortems in scorched wax, Produced the instrumental to strengthen au revoirs. A degree set aloft in reprise - thus rest thy misery… Outcries and expansions of rotten fauna, Roamed skirts of the melancholic dress. In northern raunch and raw ‘tis notice an aura, Lightless fires burned the Notre’s suppress. In ash, we rise - no phoenix to forecall.
The Pilgrim Kamanita by Karl Adolph Gjellerup Kamanita traveled for his trading trip to Kosambi city and fell in love with Vasitthi who was a King’s daughter of this city. At Asoke lawn where the couple met each other and promised to love in every life and nation. Vasitthi said about Black love: "My love has the colour of no flower. For have heard it said that the colour of truest love is not red but black blue-black as Shiva’s throat became when the god swallowed the poison which would otherwise have destroyed all living beings. And so it must always be. True love musty be able to withstand the poison of life, and must be willing to taste the bitterest, in order that the loved one may be spared And from that bitterest it will assuredly prefer to choose its color, rather than from any pleasures, however dazzling." This playlist reminded me her words🖤
Would you consider making something like ,,a very happy playlist for very sad listeners”, for example? I know it isn't connected to the colour themes, but I think it would be interesting and comforting for those who need it (often myself included). Thank you for the music 🎵 It helps when silence becomes unbearable and starts turning into sadness, when one is alone and needs to cope with deep feelings, not knowing how to express them. Since colours have been mentioned, I would like to ask you something. Are you into painting? I think you've posted a few works of yours, tell me if I'm wrong. If I'm not, tell me which technique(s) do you like the most. I honestly hope that you are somebody to someone and that you are living a happy and fulfilling life.
Сижу посреди ночи, последние две недели чтобы долги исправить. Не справлюсь → не допущен к экзаменам. Не допущен к экзаменам → натягивай сапоги и в армию с песней, летний призыв ждёт. И тут уведомление, nobody, чёрный плейлист. Да.. Атмосферка ರ╭╮ರ
Of all things to find me in the ruins of Ad Mortem, and it had to be him. The very myth the townsfolk had sacrificed me to, the very thing I was trying to escape, was true after all. The Guardian; feared yet revered, was real, and he caught me as I wandered lost and forsaken in the woods. He caught me; and carried me into the depths of his castle. And now, in the neglected dining hall, where cobwebs drip from the ceilings and coat the empty banquet table like a cloth, he sits across from me with a cape draped around his figure. The guardian watches me with a demeanor of indolence, yet I know he is anything but. The tension from where I am standing at the opposite end of the table is insurmountable. I can not bring myself to look at him, knowing all I will see are cold, loveless eyes staring back. I am not ready for that yet. Perhaps later - perhaps never. But he refuses to look away, despite my discomfort. This dress does little to hide the nature of my figure, and I’m too frightened to see if that is the object of his attention - or if his respect still abounds, and it is my face which bears scrutiny instead. The wine splashes around and around in his glass as he swirls it idly; I wonder how many more sips it will take before he becomes drunk - if he isn't already. I can only pray his mind will cloud over, that I may fall between the cracks of his memory and escape unharmed. At last, I gather the courage to speak. “If I may,” I mutter aloud, clutching the pearls around my throat for comfort, “I would like to go home.” “Home? And what home what would be?” The Guardian says it with pity, “were you not meant as a sacrifice to me, Rosanna Renat?” “It’s just Rosanna now.” I whisper. He sets the glass down, and slides his legs off the table, sitting properly in his chair; like a king. His armour glistens in the candlelight, shimmering like polished silverware. An iron sword enamoured with rubies and emeralds hangs from the hilt of his belt; one word uttered falsely, and my head will be separated from my neck. “Why are you afraid, Rosanna? You are trembling.” “Afraid? I am not, your grace.” It’s a feeble attempt at convincing him otherwise, and I’m certain he can see through it. He frowns, “’your grace’?” “Guardian.” I correct myself hurriedly and take step back. “My apologies.” “Come here.” The Guardian gestures with a gloved hand for me to approach him. I dare not disobey. With shaky steps, my feet cross the marble hall to the head of the table, and I clasp my hands behind my back to hide their shakiness. “Give me your hands.” He holds out his own, expectantly. It takes all my seventeen years of courage not to pick up my skirts and sprint in the opposite direction. With a deep breath, I place mine in his gloved hands. “Why are you afraid?” He repeats the question slowly, as if speaking to a child. I keep my gaze firmly locked on our hands, readying myself for a chance to escape, “why shouldn’t I be?” “Because I am not displeased with you.” He answers, “Harrose chose you as their sacrifice. They chose well.” “You will not always think so.” There is an uncomfortable silence, before he speaks again; “Lift your eyes to mine.” “I do not see the relevance; I can hear you just fine without...” The tremor in my voice gives me away, and he lifts a hand to my chin, forcing me to look at him. Eyes, dark as ebony, pierce my soul. A million stars dance in his irises; reflections of the candlelit chandeliers dangling from the ceiling behind us. The chandeliers, strung up by chains, like the skeletons outside the courtyard. But there’s a warmth in the darkness; like the warmth of a hearth after the fire has gone out. It’s a lingering warmth, soon to be gone. “This is your home now.” He says firmly, “I am your home. This darkness you see in me, that scares you; in time it will be of solace and comfort. I am not here to hurt you, like those in Harrose have. I am here to shield you, and to hide you. For the night does not reveal its secrets to the world, rather it hides them beyond a veil. So shall it be with you, beloved. I will hide you from the world to be my own. Now and evermore.” Just part of a novel I want to write 😅
Who ever reads this i love you i love your smile i love your laugh i love your personality i love your hair (or lack thereof) i love you even if you have insecurities i love your accomplishments i love you even if you have failures i love your eyes i love your beauty i love your handwriting (or the way you communicate) i love the way you dance i love you on your happy days i love you on you even on sad days i love you on the days you feel lonely i love you on the days you feel helpless i love you on the days you feel like no one cares i love you on the days you feel forgotten i love you on the days you feel unmotivated i love you on the days you feel loved i love you on the days you feel sick i love you on the days you feel motivated i love you on the days you feel depressed i love you on the days you feel stresses i love you on the days you feel crazy i love you on the days you feel hopeful i love you on the days you feel cuddly i love you on the days you feel clingy i love you on the days you feel amazing i love you on the days you feel beautiful i love you on the days you feel like a failure i love you on the days you feel angry i love you on the days you feel aggressive i love you on the days you feel horrible i love you on the days you feel safe i love you on the days you feel unsafe i love you on the days you feel vulnerable i love you on the days you feel weird i love you on the days you feel ok i love you when you're healthy i love how you sing (or hum or feel the music) i love your taste in music i love your taste in movies i love your taste in tv shows i love the way you act i love you even if you cry i love you when you're kind i love you even if you you're mean i love you even if you're alone i love you even if you can't feel i love you even if you feel too much i love you even if you can't take life anymore i love you even if you feel like it's too much i love you when you're asleep i love you even if you have nightmares i love you when you have dreams i love how you believe i love you when you believe in yourself i love you even if you don't believe in yourself i love you even if you hate yourself i love you when you love yourself i love the way you think i love you even if you have problems i love your solutions i love how you support i love you even if you're in pain i love you even if you're hurt i love your promises i love your secrets i love your attitude i love you sass i love your creativity i love your voice (or lack thereof) i love you hand gestures i love your stories i love you even if you have wounds i love you even if you have scars i love your face i love your past i love your future i love your present i love your outfits i love your style i love your art i love your honesty i love you even if you lie i love you even if you're tired i love you when you're energetic i love how you look i love how you cook i love you when you're adventurous i love you even if you're scared i love your imperfections i love your perfections i love you even if you worry i love you when you talk (or communicate) i love your opinions i love you even if you have headache i love you even if you have a stomach ache i love you when you help others i love you when you're mature i love you even if you're immature i love you in the hard times i love you in the easy times i love you even if life isn't bright i love you when you're responsible i love you even if you're irresponsible i love you even if you fight i love you in your darkest moments i love you in your brightest moments i love your heart i love you in the day i love you in the night i love you at midnight i love you at 3 am i love you at all times i love you at your best i love even if your worst i love the little things you do i love all of you i love you when you're you i love 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
The people, they won't leave What is threatenin' about divesting and wantin' peace? The problem isn't the protests, it's what they're protesting It goes against what our country is funding (hey) Block the barricade until Palestine is free (hey) Block the barricade until Palestine is free Macklemore 🇵🇸
they're staring at me..all of them. Disappointment clear as glass in their eyes. i failed, once again.. I'm reaching out my hand for something i can never get, because i dont accept the ordinary, usual ways. I burned my hand and now i forgot how to cure this injury. the minute i walked out of that life, i've been feeling dead. im rotting slowly in a monotonous routine. wake up, eat, listen to my mom yell about how life is shitty, keep acting alive in my social circle, do stupid shit at night and sleep deeply till afternoon. A coward who's addicted to punishing themselves..for not achieving something, for not making someone love them back, and for not getting enough attention. A pathetic attention seeker who blames circumstances or their trauma all the time. a "victim".. who didnt deserve it all.. away from god, family, life, happiness. all i seek is pain. why? to fulfill my illness. because pain makes me feel alive, more than anything else.
