a bullet goes straight to the point.
I have been rather upset these days. And it is severely affecting my already pretty much non-existing confidence and motivation.
There is so much shit going on and everyday is a hell coming to a shitty end and starting from a shitty start. School is starting to kill, and all I want in life right now is to continue serving drinks at Asylum. It is fucking sickening to think about chasing dreams, fulfilling them, wanting them, etc. These are commitments and I do not want to start focusing on them because if I do fall, I doubt I will survive the ride, the gravity pull and the trip. So, it is extremely true that I hate incompetence, and I rather live with "welll-practised" indolence. I hate failure, so I will rather not work hard for something I want. I say, "I know I can get it. I get it!," but that is not true because I am so very afraid that I can't.
Leave a space for lies because they are comfy cushions.
I am sick and tired of thinking about everything, and I honestly do want to stop but the voices in my head are saying, "No, no, no, go on, go on." Whatever, dickheads. WHATEVER.
Somehow, I feel guilty for the things that I have done - and I am not talking about the tangible shit, but the subtle, subconscious and accidental shit-, and for the hurt that I might have or might not have inflicted on you. I guess I have to apologise. But then again, it's not exactly my fault no? It was his/her/whatever. Maybe this is not even the point. Why must we all test the limits of emotions? We take for granted that the limits are justified by the nature of the relationship. But, they are not entirely rigid. No love is lost between 2, or 3 or 5. Any small factor or reason can change everything entirely. Emotions are so fucking versatile and assholic. They can change so rapidly.
It scares me sometimes. Maybe, just a little, we are veering too close to the edges. But I cannot help but do, do, do so. It is so hard to tell one thing from another, and the grey areas are amplifying as I grow older. I do not know what's the difference between telling the truth and telling lies, because the thin red line has been erased.
I can only blame myself for pretending so much, that I have mixed everything up.
If there is pen and paper, you can write and draw, write and draw.
I am becoming so show-and-tell nowadays, that I am beginning to disgust myself into oblivion.
I sound like I am throwing a verbal tantrum, and yes, I am, and yes, I usually do not reveal explicitly what I feel, but yes, I feel like I have been filled to the brim, and no, I do not need any help, and yes, I usually do not write like that but who fucking cares about fancy ways of writing anymore (words are beautiful, but I am in no mood), and no, I think it's much more than anyone else now and I do not want to bother about people anymore (It's extremely tiring), and yes, I want to just put myself in a hole and seal it up for good.
I just want to be selfish because I have a very small capacity for emotions.
And three is not good enough for one, because one times five is five, and that's two less.
I am just very sick, oh yes, I am.
On an entirely different note though,
I miss you so very much, would you please come back?
I am afraid to say the three words, but oh yes, I do.
And for another person,
I wish I can hate you, but I cannot.
I cannot care anymore, but I still do.
It will be goodbye for awhile, but not for long.
I have to sort my thoughts and feelings out.
I guess it is high time we all move on.
There is so much shit going on and everyday is a hell coming to a shitty end and starting from a shitty start. School is starting to kill, and all I want in life right now is to continue serving drinks at Asylum. It is fucking sickening to think about chasing dreams, fulfilling them, wanting them, etc. These are commitments and I do not want to start focusing on them because if I do fall, I doubt I will survive the ride, the gravity pull and the trip. So, it is extremely true that I hate incompetence, and I rather live with "welll-practised" indolence. I hate failure, so I will rather not work hard for something I want. I say, "I know I can get it. I get it!," but that is not true because I am so very afraid that I can't.
Leave a space for lies because they are comfy cushions.
I am sick and tired of thinking about everything, and I honestly do want to stop but the voices in my head are saying, "No, no, no, go on, go on." Whatever, dickheads. WHATEVER.
Somehow, I feel guilty for the things that I have done - and I am not talking about the tangible shit, but the subtle, subconscious and accidental shit-, and for the hurt that I might have or might not have inflicted on you. I guess I have to apologise. But then again, it's not exactly my fault no? It was his/her/whatever. Maybe this is not even the point. Why must we all test the limits of emotions? We take for granted that the limits are justified by the nature of the relationship. But, they are not entirely rigid. No love is lost between 2, or 3 or 5. Any small factor or reason can change everything entirely. Emotions are so fucking versatile and assholic. They can change so rapidly.
It scares me sometimes. Maybe, just a little, we are veering too close to the edges. But I cannot help but do, do, do so. It is so hard to tell one thing from another, and the grey areas are amplifying as I grow older. I do not know what's the difference between telling the truth and telling lies, because the thin red line has been erased.
I can only blame myself for pretending so much, that I have mixed everything up.
If there is pen and paper, you can write and draw, write and draw.
I am becoming so show-and-tell nowadays, that I am beginning to disgust myself into oblivion.
I sound like I am throwing a verbal tantrum, and yes, I am, and yes, I usually do not reveal explicitly what I feel, but yes, I feel like I have been filled to the brim, and no, I do not need any help, and yes, I usually do not write like that but who fucking cares about fancy ways of writing anymore (words are beautiful, but I am in no mood), and no, I think it's much more than anyone else now and I do not want to bother about people anymore (It's extremely tiring), and yes, I want to just put myself in a hole and seal it up for good.
I just want to be selfish because I have a very small capacity for emotions.
And three is not good enough for one, because one times five is five, and that's two less.
I am just very sick, oh yes, I am.
On an entirely different note though,
I miss you so very much, would you please come back?
I am afraid to say the three words, but oh yes, I do.
And for another person,
I wish I can hate you, but I cannot.
I cannot care anymore, but I still do.
It will be goodbye for awhile, but not for long.
I have to sort my thoughts and feelings out.
I guess it is high time we all move on.
