I am scared of whatever future there is that I own. Or if there is much of one. Choosing. My choices for it are not concrete. Im battling belief in it. Trying, trying, trying.
I have to think about the correlation between my Abroad flashes and my current life.
I have started to get them and sometimes they are very intense.
It is not exactly miss for the country, but there are moments in those memories that fling me to the kitchen floor in ache.
Perhaps it is that life I lived, dripping out of me. Like an open Pepsi bottle and its fizz, carbonation floating up and out. Leaving the pop, flat.
And I feel slightly like I am being emptied.
That my senses for that place, the language and the smells, the sights and the people, they are slowly leaving my brain box.
I am not scared for that.
But it is a bit scary.
I’m in a relationship with someone that I can’t make entirely happy because of poor past decisions of mine.
I’m not 100 percent happy because of that. I don’t know when I will be able to be fully happy by myself. I don’t think that I will ever be as carefree as I was. You just care more as you get older. About everything.
I watch my three year old son jump in the snow and he doesn’t care that snow is filling up his gloves or that its falling down his back. And there I am shivering in watch, and thinking, I never cared how cold the snow was because it was that fun .
I accept aging. Resistance will only make more wrinkles.
You know that quote that goes something like this,: ‘ Don’t take life seriously, no one ever gets out alive anyways’.
How many times do you hear something but you don’t really understand it or believe it?
Well now, I finally get that statement.
I guess my crumple was not the idea of whether to live or die, but figuring out that I wouldn’t end my life. That I couldn’t do it.
So when I came to that conclusion I thought, well if I’m gonna be here, I’d be a little worthless big shit if I’m gonna make it miserable. And then I thought, Well, is it that easy, to make it fun and happy and create a life like that of when I was younger. That felt full of.. life?
And I thought long and hard. I was conflicted. I mean, life was always easy to me. Even the times I went through break ups or sad times, I was back up on my feet running. I was resilient because I had attention and people that I distracted myself with.
But then it covered me in a paste. Simple,rugged facts.
No, life is not easy.
I looked down on my brothers for taking medication to make them feel better about living. Life is easy and fun. See? Look at me?
I’m the one falling. I’m trying to get ground and I’m only slipping and falling down again and screaming at myself to a wall and hating and regretting my decisions and sad all over again because I was the one that was screaming at the wall
because of ME.
And I thought after my lungs were scratched and crisp, that if i could produce that much agony over the past that couldn’t be tampered with now, I could be that beautifully vengeful for my future that had yet to exist. That if i had the power to be that upset over my life thus far, I could be that happy for a life to come.
I may not have the attention I used to have. I may not have the people, the events, the three day weekends of drinking Vex and playing video games with my closest.. but I have love and life. I have choice. I have the power to become who I want to be, every single day. Being sad isn’t going to get me anywhere I want to go. Being sorry for my sadness doesn’t get me anything except a life not lived. I’m not 19 and I can’t go back to that. I refuse to want to anymore. Life is now. With me.
You don’t figure life out, it figures you out.
You don’t try and find life, you create it.
You don’t let life fucking kill you- because it will if you let it- you let life be like, ‘ hey now, there’s a fucking liver of beautiful.’
My cereal danced right out of my pocket last week. I watched the flakes on the floor, circle themselves and they got so dizzy they fell back onto my couch and I sat beside them once they caught there breath and we watched all the shows that were on for 21 minutes. And the world didn’t exist in that time and everything big was small and the small things, like cereal flakes, were the happiest biggest things that life was made up of. I got syrup out and I poured it on the tiled floor and we slipped and slid and bumped the fridge door open and the butter fell off the shelf and the milk did too, and we laughed and lay there with plum sauce on our lips and we were fine. We were fine because I wasn’t dying. I was living. And so was my cereal.
“Well, that’s just the thing,” I said to myself.
“The people I have in my life right now, well, I’ve never had friends that knew so much about me. ”
I’ve had two best friends all my life. They still ARE my best friends.It’s different now because even though they knew me really well back then, my flaws,my faults,my weaknesses, they know me better now because I know myself better.And I ADMIT to things and I will talk about them and I think that, that is how people know you better then very well.
And the post about how the people in my life don’t really know me at all. ‘( People Post) ‘ We could all say that to some degree. We don’t have 12 people in our life all at the same calibre and depth of friendship. Each one is different and along with that comes how much each of them know.
I do not feel guilty for having people in my life that don’t know all of me. That’s just the way it’s going to be. The parts, the ways, the identity they know me as, is true. Is real. Is me. And I think that’s the main thing. They don’t know a scam. A lie. I’m not a lie anymore.
Locking yourself in your head and getting upset and frustrated in something you surely are just creating yourself, is a sure way to crazy. And that’s what I meant by noone knowing who I was. If you start closing doors on yourself, start hanging out in the room of your mind for long periods of time, you’re gonna feel noone knows you because you’re the only one that has access to that part of yourself. And you’re the one that MAKES the room what it is.
So stop making yourself feel alone and alien and unknown to everyone out there. You’ve got a decent amount of control over how much people know of you. Make it you, not fake you.
‘Cause in the end, you’re only going to turn into a disapointed hermit that you wish people knew better.
And the longer you stay in your mind mansion, the more difficult it is to open doors and windows to life around you.