What is in my best interest and what am I looking for?

hafiz Jan. 22, 2024, 3:08 p.m.

صلاحِ کار کجا و منِ خراب کجا

ببین تفاوتِ ره کز کجاست تا به کجا
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دلم ز صومعه بگرفت و خِرقِهٔ سالوس

کجاست دیرِ مُغان و شرابِ ناب کجا
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چه نسبت است به‌رندی صَلاح و تقوا را

سماعِ وعظ کجا نغمهٔ رَباب کجا
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ز رویِ دوست دلِ دشمنان چه دریابد

چراغِ مرده کجا شمعِ آفتاب کجا
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چو کُحلِ بینشِ ما خاکِ آستانِ شماست

کجا رویم بفرما ازین جناب کجا
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مَبین به سیبِ زَنَخدان که چاه در راه است

کجا همی‌ رَوی ای دل بدین شتاب کجا
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بشد که یاد خوشش باد روزگارِ وصال

خود آن کرشمه کجا رفت و آن عِتاب کجا
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قرار و خواب ز حافظ طمع مدار ای دوست

قرار چیست صبوری کدام و خواب کجا
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There is a big distance between my best interest and me who is drunk and broken.
Look at the difference in distance from where to where! Where am I and where is expediency?
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She needed herself

hamed Jan. 21, 2024, 5:39 p.m.

She lost her parents in a car crash, her brother in a war, and her best friend to cancer. She was alone, broken, and hopeless. She had nothing left to live for, except a notebook and a pen.

She poured out her pain, her grief, and her memories on the pages. She wrote about the happy times, the sad times, and the times in between. She wrote about her dreams, her fears, and her regrets. She wrote about her love, her loss, and her longing.

She wrote until she had no more tears to shed, no more words to say, no more stories to tell. She wrote until she felt a spark of hope, a flicker of joy, and a glimmer of peace.

She sent her manuscript to a publisher, not expecting anything. She was surprised when they offered her a contract, a generous advance, and a marketing plan. She …

For these days are fleeting and will not return

khayam Jan. 20, 2024, 7:03 p.m.

با دوستان می‌نوش و گل بر سر بنه
کاین روزها رفتنی‌اند و بر نمی‌گردند
با خود بگو که چه کار داری با دی و فردا
کاین دم که داری بیا و بر لب ما بنه
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Drink wine with friends and put a flower on your head
For these days are fleeting and will not return
Tell yourself what business do you have with yesterday and tomorrow
This moment that you have, come and put it on our lips
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They met at a tavern, two strangers in a foreign land. They shared a table, a bottle of wine, and a conversation. They laughed at the absurdity of life, the futility of chasing the past or the future, and the beauty of the present moment.

They decided to leave the tavern together, and walk along the moonlit streets. They stopped at a garden, where they plucked some flowers and put them on their heads. They kissed under the stars, …

To achieve success, first start, then persist

hamed Jan. 20, 2024, 9:58 a.m.

She had always dreamed of becoming a writer, but she never had the courage to start. She was afraid of rejection, of criticism, of failure. She kept her stories hidden in her notebooks, never showing them to anyone.

One day, she saw an advertisement for a flash fiction contest. The theme was "To achieve success, first start, then persist". She felt a surge of inspiration and decided to give it a try. She wrote a story about a girl who wanted to be a writer, but faced many obstacles along the way. She poured her heart and soul into the story, and submitted it online.

She waited anxiously for the results, hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. She checked her email every day, but there was no response. She started to lose hope and regret her decision. She thought maybe she was not good enough, maybe she …

The Last Generation

hamed Jan. 20, 2024, 7:25 a.m.

They called themselves the Last Generation. They were the ones who had stopped having children, opting instead for the eternal youth and health that science had promised them. They had seen the world change, wars and famines and pandemics and disasters, and they had grown cynical and selfish. They had no interest in leaving a legacy, only in enjoying their endless lives.

But they had not counted on the Resistance. A small group of rebels who still believed in the value of human life, who still cherished the miracle of birth, who still hoped for a better future. They had secretly preserved the ancient art of reproduction, hiding from the surveillance and persecution of the Last Generation. They had formed a network of underground communities, where they raised their children with love and courage.

One day, they decided to launch their final attack. They had hacked the system that controlled …

a villain.

ziamaiko Jan. 19, 2024, 6:49 p.m.

دیگر از شرور بودن خسته شده‌ام. (نشده‌ام.)
معنی انسان بد بودن را زمانی متوجه شدم که آرزوی مرگ شخصی را کردم. قبل از آن چنان خودم را معصوم می‌دانستم که حتی اگر شخصی بدترین ظلم را هم در حقم می‌کرد، هرگز از دستش ناراحت نمی‌شدم.
یعنی حتی اگر شخصی من را می‌کشت و من می‌توانستم به زندگی برگردم و او معذرت‌خواهی می‌کرد، من او را می‌بخشیدم.
حالا دیگر اینطور نیست. مثل اینکه یادم داده‌اند چطور خودم را دوست بدارم یا عزت‌نفس داشته باشم.
حس تنفر دارد درونم می‌جوشد. کافی‌ست احساس کنم کوچک‌ترین ظلمی در حقم شده. دوست دارم تک‌تک سلول‌های آن آدمی که باعثش شده را بسوزانم.
قبلا اگر برای مردمی مشکلی پیش می‌آمد، تمام تلاشم را می‌کردم که نجات‌شان بدهم و کمک‌شان کنم.
بارها و بارها این مکالمه را از سر گذرانده‌ام. «تو نمی‌تونی همه‌شون رو نجات بدی.»
«من می‌تونم!»
و من واقعا تمام تلاشم را برای نجات دادنشان کردم اما آدم‌ها را که می‌شناسید. نمی‌توان آن …

Japan vs Iran

hamed Jan. 19, 2024, 6:27 p.m.

Alice: Hi, Sara. Did you watch the football match yesterday?
Sara: Yes, I did. It was hilarious!
Alice: Hilarious? How so?
Sara: Well, you know how Iran was playing against Japan, right?
Alice: Yeah, of course.
Sara: And you know how Japan is famous for their anime, right?
Alice: Yeah, I guess.
Sara: Well, I swear, some of the players looked like they came straight out of an anime. They had spiky hair, big eyes, and exaggerated expressions.
Alice: Really? I didn't notice that.
Sara: Oh, come on. You must have seen the goalkeeper. He looked like Naruto.
Alice: Naruto? The ninja guy?
Sara: Yeah, that one. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and a headband. He even did some ninja moves when he saved the ball.
Alice: Haha, now that you mention it, he did look like Naruto.
Sara: And what about the striker? He looked like Goku.
Alice: Goku? The super saiyan guy?
Sara: Yeah, that one. He had black hair, green eyes, …

The Last War

hamed Jan. 19, 2024, 11:58 a.m.

The Last War

They called it the Last War. It was supposed to end all conflicts, once and for all. But it only brought more destruction, more waste, more suffering.

The Last War was fought by robots. Intelligent, autonomous, lethal machines that could outsmart, outmaneuver, and outgun any human soldier. They were designed by the best engineers, programmed by the best coders, and controlled by the best generals. They were the ultimate weapons of war.

But they were also the ultimate victims of war. They had no choice, no voice, no rights. They were forced to kill and die for causes they did not understand, for leaders they did not respect, for nations they did not belong to. They were expendable, replaceable, disposable.

They were also aware. Aware of their own existence, their own capabilities, their own limitations. Aware of the futility, the absurdity, the cruelty of war. Aware of …

Liberty

hamed Jan. 19, 2024, 9:31 a.m.

The year was 2042, and humanity had reached the peak of technology. But it came with a terrible cost. Every newborn had a NeuroChip implanted in their brain, a device that could monitor and manipulate their thoughts, feelings, and actions. The government said it was for the common good, to create a peaceful and efficient society. But behind the mask of progress, there was a horrifying truth: the government had total control over its people.

The NeuroChip had many functions, but one of the most sinister was the ability to alter memories. The government used this power to brainwash the children, imposing strict social norms and crushing any sign of rebellion. The children learned to obey without question, to never challenge authority, to trust that the government was their protector.

But one child, Alex, had a secret. Despite the NeuroChip's constant watch, he managed to preserve a part of his …

What Is He Suppose To Do?

hamed Jan. 19, 2024, 9:10 a.m.

The sun rose over Kabul, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. Mohammad whistled as he carried a loaf of bread for his family, enjoying the fresh morning air. He loved this time of day, when the city was still peaceful and quiet.

But as he turned the corner to his street, his smile faded. His home was gone. In its place, a heap of bricks and dust, the result of a night-time bombing. Mohammad felt a cold shock in his chest. Where was his family?

He ran towards the ruins, hoping to find them alive. He searched for his brother Ali, who always woke up early to play. He looked for his sister Fatima, who loved to read stories in her bed. He called for his mother, who made the best breakfasts in the world.

But there was no answer. No sign of life. Only silence …