"Watching you walk out of my life doesn't make me bitter or cynical about love. If I wanted to be with the wrong person that bad, how beautiful will the right one be?"
Read this on a person's Facebook today. Needless to say, I started crying. Yeah, I am a cry baby. Whatevs though, it's the sole reason why women these days live longer than men- stress relief. :p Lately, as I'm sure you all have been annoyed with hearing about....my life has been less that perfect. Peter Pan is finally starting to grow up and fucking hates it. I don't know, when I was a little younger and more naïve, even though bad things happened in my life, I never really let them stop me. I guess it's because I wasn't actually on my own, still lived in my parents' house, was still young and was still dreaming of the future. Then I go to uni and start to wake up a little, and then this year hits. Holy shit.
I don't think I can really ever go back to the way I was before. The innocent wide-eyed girl with big dreams and trust in the world that they would all happen. Nope. What replaced her was this cynical, dark, brooding, moody bitchy person who sees the world through shattered rose-colored lenses. Do I like this new person? Kind of I guess. In a strange way, I like that I'm not so innocent anymore. I don't know why, I guess it just reminds me that I am living my life and hell if life is pretty or perfect in ANY way. Things that are suppose to be concrete are not. Fate is not kind. And hope is a dying art. I find that I am like Benjamin Button in a way; the more I learn about the world, the more I want to crawl back into the moulted skin that is my childhood. Escape back to the times when I knew that the world was shining and bright and good and that one day I would be flying high in the clouds living the dream.
What have I learned so far? That the best people you will ever know are the ones society casts off. That there is no black and white, only gray. That you can't become stronger unless your heart is shattered and fragmented so many times, you wonder how it still beats. That for me, nothing is swift and painless- everything is drawn out and I have to live with the pain like a virus in my system. But I guess, or at least I hope, that getting bashed up by life, no matter how painful it is to pick yourself up out of the wreckage, only helps you to find something that you've been looking for all along. I don't really know why it has to be that way. I don't know why people can't just wake up one morning and decide to be happy and have a perfect life and HAVE it (and yes optimists, I know that you can choose to feel happy, but sorry I don't bullshit how I feel, ever). Why those who suffer the most are the ones who find something. Goddamn do I hope that something is worth finding. Because let's face it, I already know that my life isn't going to be as simple as rubbing a magic lamp or clicking my sparkly red heels thrice for happiness. I'm not by any means as bad off as a lot of people in the world but I don't have it great either. And I know that I probably never will because, I mean, let's face the facts people, that was the card my little fetus of a soul was dealt at her inception. It sucks, it hurts and I'm damned surprised I haven't died of a heart attack by now but that's the breaks. I suppose the point I've finally gotten to is acceptance of this strange fate of mine. Maybe now I can stop falling and just hit the ground running. Though, you want to know what will likely happen? I'll be racing at high speeds away from my fate, from what my life could be, instead of turning on my heel and facing it. Why?
I'm afraid. I'm a weak person. I can't help it. So what has my lazy ass chosen to do? I'm not going to run, I'm not going to fight, I'm just going to sit here and wait a little longer. Worst idea you've ever read? Yeah, probably.
I don't think I can really ever go back to the way I was before. The innocent wide-eyed girl with big dreams and trust in the world that they would all happen. Nope. What replaced her was this cynical, dark, brooding, moody bitchy person who sees the world through shattered rose-colored lenses. Do I like this new person? Kind of I guess. In a strange way, I like that I'm not so innocent anymore. I don't know why, I guess it just reminds me that I am living my life and hell if life is pretty or perfect in ANY way. Things that are suppose to be concrete are not. Fate is not kind. And hope is a dying art. I find that I am like Benjamin Button in a way; the more I learn about the world, the more I want to crawl back into the moulted skin that is my childhood. Escape back to the times when I knew that the world was shining and bright and good and that one day I would be flying high in the clouds living the dream.
What have I learned so far? That the best people you will ever know are the ones society casts off. That there is no black and white, only gray. That you can't become stronger unless your heart is shattered and fragmented so many times, you wonder how it still beats. That for me, nothing is swift and painless- everything is drawn out and I have to live with the pain like a virus in my system. But I guess, or at least I hope, that getting bashed up by life, no matter how painful it is to pick yourself up out of the wreckage, only helps you to find something that you've been looking for all along. I don't really know why it has to be that way. I don't know why people can't just wake up one morning and decide to be happy and have a perfect life and HAVE it (and yes optimists, I know that you can choose to feel happy, but sorry I don't bullshit how I feel, ever). Why those who suffer the most are the ones who find something. Goddamn do I hope that something is worth finding. Because let's face it, I already know that my life isn't going to be as simple as rubbing a magic lamp or clicking my sparkly red heels thrice for happiness. I'm not by any means as bad off as a lot of people in the world but I don't have it great either. And I know that I probably never will because, I mean, let's face the facts people, that was the card my little fetus of a soul was dealt at her inception. It sucks, it hurts and I'm damned surprised I haven't died of a heart attack by now but that's the breaks. I suppose the point I've finally gotten to is acceptance of this strange fate of mine. Maybe now I can stop falling and just hit the ground running. Though, you want to know what will likely happen? I'll be racing at high speeds away from my fate, from what my life could be, instead of turning on my heel and facing it. Why?
I'm afraid. I'm a weak person. I can't help it. So what has my lazy ass chosen to do? I'm not going to run, I'm not going to fight, I'm just going to sit here and wait a little longer. Worst idea you've ever read? Yeah, probably.
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