I’m tired of holding up your back-up plans
It’s so unbelievably frustrating to think I have no one to talk to about my problems.
Whenever I say that out loud, I get a rush of feedback from friends and random acquaintances claiming that they will always extend a shoulder for me - that I can always go to that person whenever I need something, no matter what time or day.
The harsh reality here is that I know I cannot. There’s no one I can trust. Anyone I put my trust in inevitably fails me, so what is the point? I cannot confide in others, because I’m unable to find anyone worth such confidence, which is unsettling. According to the rest of the world, I’m supposed to have a large amount of friends from a million different places, but to me it’s clear I don’t. I strive to find an outlet but I have yet to come across one. There is no reprieve, at least not yet. My best friend is supposed to be just that - my best friend - yet he hastily attacks me when I try to talk to him whenever he’s in a bad mood, without much of a second thought. It’s abusive and unfair. Granted, no one is perfect, but what kind of best friend can one be if all one does is cause the other to feel inferior?
I don’t want to sit here and turn this into a virtual whining session or online childhood tantrum, but honestly, how else can it be said? Many who claim to be my friends can’t be bothered to listen to my problems, and I refuse to bother myself with theirs. You can call it childish, selfish, or tell me I’m just stooping to their level, but at this point, I have no reason to rise above them and “be the better man”. I have no desire or energy to be there for someone who refuses to be there for me.
I am not your back-up plan.
C’est quoi votre style de fille ? ( Homme pour Romain )
Sorry! I don’t know French :S
Be Still My Heart
I’m not entirely sure why I’m writing here today, after avoiding something so incredibly revealing as a blog entry for the past couple of months. I think it has something to do with the recent changes in my life. For almost two years now, I’ve dealt with nothing more than impossible strife and difficulties within my own emotional realm. I’ve cracked mentally from the pressure of all of this, and just recently realized the damage that has been created.
In other words, I’ve been stuck, and it’s mostly due to flagrantly impossible dreams I’ve cooked up over the recent years. It’s unfortunate I’ve let this happen to myself, but what was I to think? I fell for the lies, the deceit, the uncontrollable suay that overtook me and my mental and emotional wellbeing.
Well, it’s over now. Ever since the turn of the new year, I’ve slowly been building my defenses for this exact moment, preparing myself for the inevitable strike against the very fantasies that tormented my soul and held me back against my own will. I spent every moment since then fighting the war that would, if won, release me and bring me one step closer to the existence I so desire.
Today, I can finally taste the freedom I’ve prayed for for so long. I’ve begun to see the road I wish to travel. It is lying in wait underneath my feet, silently urging me to follow it’s glittered path into the gorgeous horizon in the distance. There are twists and turns and bridges yet to cross, and I can already see them further up the hill, but I know I will cross them with ease when I get there. I will no longer drown. I will no longer fall and cry. I am stronger, because of what I have been through. And for that, I thank everyone whose paths have crossed mine, for better or for worse. You have made me what I am today, and if it weren’t for every day I suffered through, I would not be at this point in my life.
Wake up! If you knew for certain you had a terminal illness—if you had little time left to live—you would waste precious little of it! Well, I’m telling you…you do have a terminal illness: It’s called birth. You don’t have more than a few years left. No one does! So be happy now, without reason—or you will never be at all.
Well, that’s your opinion, isn’t it? And I’m not about to waste my time trying to change it.
Everytime I want to give up on him, there’s always something inside telling me to just give it time.
Omniscience of the Unknown
To even imagine that, as a person, you could have something forever, is pure, unequivocal evidence that you are not entirely truthful with yourself. Nothing is forever, not even your own existence, so why conjur up such falsities in the delicate window of sanity we are granted as children? Rather, young children with fairy-tale dreams and cloudless skies ought to be straightened immediately, and preferrably with a wooden ruler. That way, there is no expectation of unbearable and self-afflicting heartache so readily granted to us as we reach adulthood.
Any adult with even the slightest concepts of the disheartening realities of today’s society should have enough sense to dash the flagrant imaginations of their offspring in such a way as to ready those children for adolescence. Purple dragons and unicorns do not exist, clouds don’t taste like cotton candy, and there is no Prince Charming riding down the road on his noble steed. It’s simply not true. And, although reality is completely relative (schizophrenics, for example, often find themselves in an entirely altered reality than the majority of society), there are still simple truths which many humans hold dear to their hearts. Rain falls the moment you wish it won’t, people will let you down, hope will prevail against all odds.
It is a strange fact, but hope is the one thing that will never fail you. Hold onto that slim chance that perhaps purple dragons and unicorns are real. Hold onto the dreams that children can still, in fact, dream without fear of disease and destruction. Hold onto the slim chance that, although we often contradict ourselves on a daily basis…much like this very essay…there is still the idea that maybe, just maybe, you can still find a way to forever.
So, is it fair to be so selfish as to wonder where your life will go from here, from this moment, from today? What will occur tomorrow, if there is one? What will your dreams, your hopes, your fears bring to you? What will fate deal you in the next hour, the next year, in ten years? Don’t know? Well, why should you? Why should anyone understand what will happen to them…we are not meant to truly know. The irony of not knowing, however, opens up the ability to dream and aim for goals we do not truly believe we will receive. And when those goals and dreams are met, well then, it is evident they were meant to occur anyway, right? Or, perhaps not. Perhaps it was a simple stroke of luck. Perhaps we just live in semi-organized chaos. Maybe our lives follow a sense of probability - that certain events happen at certain moments to certain people simply because they were the ones involved when that mathematical moment in time occured. Perhaps we’re just cogs in a machine…complex versions of a simple robot built to follow a set of pre-conceived rules and orders. A calculator of humanity. And as we go about our lives, we fling ourselves in and out of these pre-calculated conditions that would have happened with or without or involvement. That even if we as a single person weren’t in that exact spot, that precise event would have occured to someone else at the same time it had occured to you. We are randomized. We are pre-conceived. We are the moment. We are momentary.
