Observation holds the power of knowledge and in time it creates the greater understanding of acceptance. At this point, all I can say is – ‘nuff talking. Time is yours, mine’s up.
I knew what was at stake the moment I realized my feelings. I knew of the collateral damage, the potential chaos, and everything in between that surfaced from the depths of possibility. But never did I think it would take a turn like this, that from my vulnerabilities I would once again feel this kind of hurt. I go through my list of numbers and the sense of complete trust defies me. I allowed myself to break, to crumble beneath the weight of a really dark place in my life and I actually trusted someone enough to let them in but to see what it has become of it. Just, damn. I guess I deserved this, too.
Life is boring. People are vengeful. Good things always end. We do so many things and we don’t know why, and if we do find out why, it’s decades later and knowing why doesn’t matter any more.
I don’t think man was meant to attain happiness so easily. Happiness is like those palaces in fairy tales whose gates are guarded by dragons: we must fight in order to conquer it.
It is always the false that makes you suffer, the false desires and fears, the false values and ideas, the false relationships between people. Abandon the false and you are free of pain; truth makes happy, truth liberates.
I miss the sounds of the metal against metal, the screeching of tires from one destination to another, the inhalation of strangers that share the same proximity for the next few minutes - where, in that moment, at that very second, we stood together at the same spot out of the entire planet before parting ways to our separate lives. I’ve seen exhaustion, head rested against surfaces after long days and rough nights. I’ve been in the presence of the evil, the kind, the quiet, and the ostentatious. Sometimes though, I just want to leave. I want to pack up a notebook, a camera, headphones and go. Exploring every stop, of every passing city and knowing there is always a way back home. I miss the breath of the city, how in all its ruckus and pandemonium, there is this sense of peaceful silence.
The concept of perspectives in its entirety, wrapped in all its intricacies, completely fuels me. There is something about getting to know people that inspires me, like reading a book, ya know? I become engulfed into a whole different world and I see it through a different pair of eyes. It also helps that I’m a feeler, so not only do I visualize the world but I’m also able to inhabit it, making a temporary home. It helps me understand the human capacity and empathize… and escape.
To desire to be good, to do good, and to stay good; as a person to others and as an overall human being has probably been my greatest struggle. People have absolutely no idea just how much I’m willing to sacrifice, how much of myself I’m able to lose just to know that my role here on earth was somehow significant and positive in the lives of others. Nothing makes me happier than a “thank you” that is packaged with sincerity. An “I love you” that derives from a little place called home. But there comes a time where it’s me against myself. Where I’m being tugged from all different directions and I want to be there, and there, and over there all at the same time but it seems to always leave little to no time for myself at the end of the day. Reaching to a point where I’m laying there at night wondering why there’s this seemingly expanding void that seems to fill up my mind. That the more I give, the more I help… the less of myself I become in the event of realizing that people are, and will always be, after themselves and for themselves. I try really fucking hard and yet with every attempt, I seem to be at the same place wondering the same things. I did not walk through land mines to lose my own mind all over again. It’s almost a new year. It’s a new start. A new chance. But I’m struggling so much that I’m starting to fear that this, this right here, is all that is left of me and while you’re off fearing the thought of losing me… I’m just here trying to not lose myself. So tell me what you think you know about me.
Compassion hurts. When you feel connected to everything, you also feel responsible for everything. And you cannot turn away. Your destiny is bound with the destinies of others. You must either learn to carry the Universe or be crushed by it. You must grow strong enough to love the world, yet empty enough to sit down at the same table with its worst horrors.
I want to feel my life. I want to stop agreeing to things I don’t really want.
I’m indecisive because I see eight sides to everything.
there is not a soul in the world who could fathom the intensities of my thoughts. to listen without the need of overwhelming advisory to a subject they don’t quite understand. sometimes I crave solitude because it is sweet and it is the only time to myself that is entirely mine in physicality, despite the avenues in which my mind would take in the whirlwind of disconnected thoughts. I’m here, there, and a million other places all at once but I will always be alone, in empatheia.
We live in a world where it’s more acceptable to dislike yourself and openly say “I am ugly” rather than actually appreciate yourself and openly say “I am attractive” because how dare you feel good in your skin and say it out loud, what an awful human being you are, you can’t walk around thinking you’re good, you piece of shit.
You cannot change what you refuse to confront.
The problem with improvement via new year’s resolutions is that they tend to centre on removing things from your life - drinking, smoking, eating four packets of crisps on the bounce while pressing “refresh” endlessly on Facebook - rather than adding things. They’re all about making your life smaller. And I’m instinctively anti-smaller lives. Balls to smaller lives. Balls to denial and unhappiness and rationing. Our lives - like our hearts, our vocabularies and our hair - should all be about remorseless embiggenment.