is death. Whether it come today, tomorrow, or fifty years from now; death is something that nobody can escape. Death is inevitable.
WIth that being said, we must grasp every moment of life, and cherish it. We must live with our hearts wide open to new people, and ideas. We must not fear death, or try to hide, because someday it will find us. Instead, we must live each day as if we will never again see the sun.
We mustlove one another.
We must dream bigger than what seems logical.
We mustnot doubt the abilities of ourselves, or others.
because I don’t know what it is. Something deep down is devouring me from the inside out.
Perhaps everything around me is getting to be way too much. Everyone is nice to me, but I have an idescribable paranoia that the world is plotting against me. I suppose I’ve always been this way; I have always been terrified of comittment. I have never been able to trust anyone with anything for absolutely no reason at all. For a while, it was not that people had disearned my trust, but just that I never allowed for people to earn it in the first place. I got over that, but I feel that indescribable sensation coming back to me.
I wonder if it was my parents’ early divorce. The fact that both sets of remarried parents fight constantly makes me question the whole idea of love. I often find myself thinking, ‘Who cares if I’m single forever, love is fake, and I will never find someone’. I know it’s terribly negative, and I hate that feeling inside. I don’t want to bring anyone down, so please, excuse this negative rant.
I just can’t control this sensation inside anymore. I need to meet someone special. Someone who, whether they understand or not, will listen to me. Someone who will wrap their arms around me, and assure me that everything will be ok.
I know there is a rainbow after every storm, and I know that there is someone out there for me. But this isn’t about being single. This is about something way deeper that I truly cannot put my finger on. I suppose it is about not wanting to be just like my mom. Sometimes I wonder why I don’t let myself drink to get drunk. It’s like the devil on my shoulder is poking at the angel questioning its every move. But the truth, the truth that for so long I refused to admit, is that I don’t want to be like my drunken mom. I hate being the drunkie’s daughter. I would never admit that out loud, or to anyone (even though technically I am now admitting it to the whole freaking world) but it is the evident truth. I want to be what my mom never could be, and I want to see the world in the way she can’t. I don’t want my life to be sheltered like hers. I refuse to be the drunk, rich, snob that she has come to be. I love her, but my love is covered in a fog of embarassment, and resent.
It’s all so crazy, and scary when these heavy emotions suddenly appear out of nowhere, and take over your senses.
it sucks, really it does. Something so innocent ended up so destructive. It destroyed families, friendships, and individuals. He’s an asshole, and she won’t let go. I understand it’s hard, but if she can’t end it while the times are tough, she will sink back into his hole when they get easy again.
He says I love you, but he’s full of shit.
She says he is the only one who will ever love her, but she doesn’t realize how beautiful she really is.
She can do so much better, but never worse.
Fuck you for what you did to her. You put her down just so you could pull her back up. It is a grueling, endless cycle, and there’s nothing left for me to say. My words don’t mean shit. It’s between them now.