Is anyone out there? Please answer me.
I need you.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
lately i've been second guessing the hell out of myself, putting myself through the gamut. ive felt the lowest lows and self-doubt that shook me to the core. but...
it has never been in my nature to fight fate. i am not the type of girl who goes for what she wants, im the type who believes that if i dont get what i want, it wasnt meant to be. i believe in fate. i believe in bigger plans and a greater controlling power.
I have my own system. so sue me. i dont care. i dont care if im not strong. i dont care if im kidding or deluding myself. i dont care if i dont face up to facts. i dont wanna force myself to go after what i want anymore, to keep giving myself pep talks, to make this small plans that always fall through, to overanalyse everything. i just wanna stop being sad and insecure.
it has never been in my nature to fight fate. i am not the type of girl who goes for what she wants, im the type who believes that if i dont get what i want, it wasnt meant to be. i believe in fate. i believe in bigger plans and a greater controlling power.
I have my own system. so sue me. i dont care. i dont care if im not strong. i dont care if im kidding or deluding myself. i dont care if i dont face up to facts. i dont wanna force myself to go after what i want anymore, to keep giving myself pep talks, to make this small plans that always fall through, to overanalyse everything. i just wanna stop being sad and insecure.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
I thought I knew how it felt. I thought I had memorized the feeling of not being happy, of wanting more, of being ajar. I thought I had settled for this second skin; the acceptance that sometimes it just isn’t a choice. It is a luxury to be able to feel what you wish to feel, and more often than not, life cannot afford such ease.
The problem with being a dreamer, a writer, a poet, is not that they feel more than everyone else. It is that they cannot escape from it. All the pain, ache and explosions,- others can dismiss as merely a feeling that cannot be contained. But for us, there are endless words to describe the way we feel, to actualize the feeling, to give it existence, to gravitate them. The irresistible impulse to label everything, to get to the bottom of every unexplainable feeling is crippling. To live as a writer is non-apologetic. Everywhere that you try to escape to, is aesthetically numb. Even when you do not see what reminds you of it, words are running madness inside your head.
This is about existing within a world where love is not on my side. This is about struggling every day to stay afloat. This is about my greatest love story. I thought I knew how it felt. I had made a pact with myself that I have no other choice. But that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier to live with. Heartstrings are broken whenever I think to myself, we may be so right for each other, but there will never be a way to find out. So many things remind me of you that not a day goes by that I am able to be completely content. The problem with being a dreamer, is that I feel too much for my own good. When I think about us, I feel dismantled, familiar, damaged and every imaginable adjective in between. There is no other person as capable as you to destruct, love and forgive me. You may never understand it, but it is just a truth that I must live with.
The idea of being happy is extraordinary. Sometimes I dream of not feeling. Of just existing. Of not being physically able to hurt inside. I did not choose to be a person that feels too much, or someone that is compelled to write word after word after word. Every time I think I could be content, something thrusts me back into a higher feeling that I cannot control. I thought I knew how it felt, how everything is, how people are, but I cannot will my heart to think the same.
The problem with being a dreamer, a writer, a poet, is not that they feel more than everyone else. It is that they cannot escape from it. All the pain, ache and explosions,- others can dismiss as merely a feeling that cannot be contained. But for us, there are endless words to describe the way we feel, to actualize the feeling, to give it existence, to gravitate them. The irresistible impulse to label everything, to get to the bottom of every unexplainable feeling is crippling. To live as a writer is non-apologetic. Everywhere that you try to escape to, is aesthetically numb. Even when you do not see what reminds you of it, words are running madness inside your head.
This is about existing within a world where love is not on my side. This is about struggling every day to stay afloat. This is about my greatest love story. I thought I knew how it felt. I had made a pact with myself that I have no other choice. But that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier to live with. Heartstrings are broken whenever I think to myself, we may be so right for each other, but there will never be a way to find out. So many things remind me of you that not a day goes by that I am able to be completely content. The problem with being a dreamer, is that I feel too much for my own good. When I think about us, I feel dismantled, familiar, damaged and every imaginable adjective in between. There is no other person as capable as you to destruct, love and forgive me. You may never understand it, but it is just a truth that I must live with.
The idea of being happy is extraordinary. Sometimes I dream of not feeling. Of just existing. Of not being physically able to hurt inside. I did not choose to be a person that feels too much, or someone that is compelled to write word after word after word. Every time I think I could be content, something thrusts me back into a higher feeling that I cannot control. I thought I knew how it felt, how everything is, how people are, but I cannot will my heart to think the same.
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