I’m tired of this bullshit that always has to fuckin’ pop back up into my life. But I don’t know why I’m saying that because it’s not like it ever left. It’s there. And it’s getting worse. And… I don’t deserve to feel like this. I don’t think anyone should feel like this. Like they’re stuck in some sick fate.
I just want to disconnect from it all.
It’s like.. a ticking bomb. Sometimes the time ticks faster, sometimes I’ve been given more time. The cruel fate of it all is that it’s going to off either way. And it’s like I’m just waiting for it. Waiting for it to ruin me.. I don’t know. I’m begging, begging for it to go away. But it’s not. I try to accept it, but I can’t. Why am I making myself struggle for this kind of shit? I want to go away because everyone’s making it worse. And it’s not like a single act of moving my hands up to my ears to cover all the things I don’t want to hear will be enough. Saying “I don’t give a fuck” is not enough. Turning my back away and not looking is not enough.
I just keep feeling this heavy weight on my chest and in my head. My heart and mind. They’re struggling to keep myself up, to keep myself strong.
And I wish I could change. Change myself so I wouldn’t have to feel this way. Because it’s not a great feeling. But I’m me. And that’s what I’ve been told. It’s because I am who I am. And I don’t know if it’s some curse… or a blessing.
It’s hard to try to be understandable. Especially after you’ve lost so much respect for that person. And you try to tell yourself that it won’t change a thing, but honestly, it does. And I’m sorry for having to feel this way. It’s not like I wanted to nor like to. But it’s always in the back of my head, and… I won’t, I just won’t. And you know what? It’s fine. I’ll take the distance. I don’t have to push myself into something that I don’t even like. And why should I?
It’s an eery sadness.. remembering, thinking.. of how it felt.
I can’t feel it all completely anymore. Because I’m fine now.. and I guess there’s no point in looking back. But I still remember the feeling.
I remembered. And sadness feeds on memories like those.
The stronger the memory, the bigger it grows.
The feeling of finally finishing an art piece is.. I don’t really know how to put it but it’s pretty darn indescribable. When you’re fully immersed in something and nothing else exists but you and that art in front of you.. That you have the power to create anything you wanted to with your imagination. See a vision, make it into reality. Yes, this is my passion. And for art to become truly beautiful you must embrace it with your whole being. It should flow. I think that’s how it should be. It’s like creating different worlds and letting yourself in that world you’re creating. That feeling.
I think everyone should experience it. Find their own passion. Not some fake illusion.. but something that you can have forever. Something that will further your growth as a person. Something that will open doors for you, not just show you images in sealed-tight windows.
Get passionate about something.
"I don’t want to be that kind of person. I want to stay who I am. With all that’s happening around me… I want to be able to fight through the illusions that promise a way out, the dark holes, the arms that grab me from the dark. I don’t want to be sucked into conformity. But, these are just words. I don’t know what will happen to me.. Don’t know what tomorrow brings.. what the future is. I guess all I can say is.. I hope to stay who I am right now for as long as I can. Because a lot of things in life can make huge impacts. Good and bad. And I’m the kind of person who.. who just has so much emotion and thoughts that like to battle each other out… That I’m probably susceptible into doing something stupid one day out of impulse. I just… I want to keep my hope. (Even though I may not show it.) I want to keep caring. (Because even though it hurts to care sometimes, I absolutely detest the idgaf attitude.) I want to stay weird. I want to stay… passionate about the things that I connect to. I want to keep strong. (Even though I’m probably just lingering.) I don’t know.. maybe it’s my hold on to innocence. I don’t know what it is. I know I’m pretty insecure, but there’s just a part of me that I know I love.. And I hope that I could keep that part of me for as long as I can. As long as 80 years old or something. I hope I don’t lose it along the way. Because I’d like to think it’s what makes me special. Makes me who I am."
I never really know…
I’m not a risk taker.
I like to stay in my comfort zone.
But I’ve taken the risk.
And I know I’ll get hurt.
But knowing that much..
I’ll still give it my all..
Until I break into a million pieces…
Or something amazing happens.