We never leave out house expecting of being stabbed while walking alone on the street in broad daylight or kidnapped while standing outside a coffees shop, if we lived trying to prophesize all our misfortunes we’d all be paranoid schizophrenics.
Which is why, we all start our day with a layout of the positive version of how we would like to spend it.

This doesn’t make us stupid, ignorant, naive or worthy of being blamed for an unforeseen attack, it just makes us human.

You can’t expect to live safely without being extra careful; the worlds too rotten a place.
You can’t expect to live blissfully while being extra careful; the world is too rotten a place.

You try and fight it but the rides too strong
the wrong feels right and the right seems wrong

It’s so intimidating; not knowing what comes next
each time it feels new even though you’re reading the same text

The force throws you up and then soon brings you crashing down
and among all the confusion you lose your sane crown

Everyday feels like a battle that nobody seems to understand
but you know it’s a force greater than you, something oh so grand

They can’t imagine what it’d feel like having these waves pull your strings
they can’t sympathize with what a life like this brings

But you know the number of tears you’ve shed can fill the deepest ocean
and how the times it’s tossed you up high has caused only commotion

How can anyone know what it feels like when you can’t control how you feel
to some it’s a joke, to some it’s no big deal

But it governs your life, it pins you down everyday
makes you grovel in the shadows and then shines bright lights in your way

So be strong and keep in touch, show it down once more
the waves will keep on coming and soon you’ll drift ashore.

people are right when they tell you to keep your sorrow to yourself
that the worlds a shallow place filled with people who won’t care
they all pretend to understand, just for a while
but in the end, there’s nobody but yourself left standing there.

You call me weak
handle pain so deep, that cutting your own skin feels relieving without fearing death.
I challenge you.

You call me weak
buy a ticket onto the roller coaster ride I’ve been on for the past 3 years, without telling anyone.
I challenge you.

You call me weak
try dreaming about something killing you and silence the fear that makes you look over your shoulder.
I challenge you.

You call me weak
go to school and give it your full best by switching off your emotions and concentrating, when you can’t.
I challenge you.

You call me weak
try taking the blame for something you can’t control, all because you’re too embarrassed to tell anyone.
I challenge you.

You call me weak
try living a normal happy life, when you don’t feel normal, or happy. At all.
I challenge you.

You call me weak
try being called weak and pathetic when you know the struggle you so strongly fight everyday in silence.
I challenge you.

You call me weak
try knowing that in the end, it’s only you that will be by your side when you need someone comforting.
I challenge you.

You call me weak
try showing your vulnerability to the world in an attempt to get better while facing the judgers.
I challenge you.

Let go of the fear of giving in
if you don’t give it all you’ll never win

run faster that the darkness that’s following you
beat it down, you know how to

Don’t be afraid of what they’ll say
they are nobody to judge your day

Nobody can see what keeps you going
nobody can measure the pain you’re not showing

Don’t look for sympathy, just help yourself
throw all the unwanted books from your shelf
shed all the skin that’s holding you back
it’s not your fault, cut yourself some slack

Accept that not everyone else will
but the ones that love till stop at no hill

The road ahead runs longer that you can see
but learn to leave some things up to destiny

Give up the craving for control and go with the flow
the suffering you’ve been through, only you can know

So fill your world with colors so bright
find strength that will keep you from the darkness of the night

You’re perfect in your skin that’s been gifted to you from above.
‘Cuz you are who you are, and that’s who they’ll love.

Angry at snowy for breaking his model and somewhat perplexed by the behavior of the men who were so desperately trying to obtain the model, Tintin goes to the library where he finds out the mysterious past of the sunken ship which is said to carry tobacco and other hidden treasures.

on returning home from the library he finds his apartment in a mess and the broken model of the ship stolen and proceeds to meet the only person he could think of who stole it, Ivan Ivanovich Sakharine at his house, Marlinspike hall.  He sees an identical model, but gets convinced it’s a different one and returns home. Barnaby is then shot while trying to warn Tintin about the dangers he was getting into and Tintin is shot at as well.

after a conversation with Thomson and Thompson, Tintin was returning home when he was abducted and kidnapped by Ivan Ivanovich Sakharine’s men and kept prisoner on board the SS Karaboudjan.
on regaining his consciousness he escapes to captain haddock who is perpetually drunk and together along with snowy they escape the ship on a lifeboat. Ivan Ivanovich Sakharine’s tries to relocate them are in vain as they capture the plane sent by him to find them and head towards the Bagghar port in morocco but crash in a desert on their way.

Due to a lack of alcohol, Captn. Haddock starts hallucinating about his ancestor who was the captain of the unicorn ship and during a fierce battle between him and a pirate named Red Rackham – Ivan Ivanovich Sakharine’s ancestor – loses, and chooses to sink the ship along with the treasures it held instead of letting it fall into the hands of the pirate. He tells Tintin this story along with the information of there being three models of the ship, each containing a scroll which when put together reveal the location of the sunken ship.

In Bagghar, they learn the second scroll is with a rich, wealthy man named Omar Ben Salaad who has incased it in a bullet-proof box. Ivan Ivanovich Sakharine plots to hold a concert with a famous singer whose powerful voice would crack the glass after which his trained hawk would swoop down and obtain the scroll. Possessing two scrolls, Ivan Ivanovich Sakharine proceeds back to Europe where he is ambushed by Thomson and Thompson whom he escapes from. This is followed by a battle between Sakharine and Captn. Haddock who like their ancestors engage in swordfight using dockside cranes, swords, and even bottles of whiskey. Haddock is eventually victorious and Sakharine is promptly arrested by Thomson and Thompson.

They then visit marlinspike hall, the indicated location and together find the third scroll down in the wine cellar behind a false wall. They also find some of the treasure, and putting the three scrolls together, the location of the sunken ship with the remaining treasures. They agree to go on their final adventure to find the sunken ship and with this, the movie comes to an end.

(Reference source : Ishaan Mehra.)

Every song I hear reminds me of him. Every lyric fills my mind with images of him and me holding me, embracing me, loving me, and I, silently but very truly falling deeper and deeper into his world. Drowning in his eyes barely seems suffocating. Believing every spell he casts has seized to feel silly.
I don’t know this feeling, but because of how he fills me with it I’m not afraid, not hesitant, as not only does he illuminate my world with glowing flames of passion and the warmth of love, but he seems to truly care about me. He wipes my tears so that I can comfortably make room for a much waited smile.

He shields me from the ice cold winds that would otherwise freely wear me down. He lifts my troubles onto his own shoulder and walks right by me even when I don’t need him to. Because he knows not needing him is a lie. I survive on him. I survive on the strength he gives me to fight another day.
When I’m alone with him, it feels like nothing else in the world matters. He fills the point of focus in an otherwise blurry picture. I see him clearly, smiling at me behaving foolishly but cherishing it none the less. The chords he strikes synchronize my heart beat. I’ve given myself to him in a way that I will not be able to recollect the shattered pieces I will be reduced to if he leaves me. For after all, when even glass shatters, the bigger more prominent pieces can be collected and glued back together, but the dust, the minute particles that hold those defined pieces together cannot and thus, the glass can never ever re-attain the beauty, the wholeness it once had.

How am I to convince him of this love? How am I to even show him that it exists in a way other then getting mesmerized every time he looks my way? How am I to convince myself of the reality that this may end? How will I live through it? Or will I just be reduced to another meaningless particle in this universe, timelessly suspended in a void so irreplaceable while life passes me by.