Fear and shame are the backbone of my self-control. They are my source of inspiration, my insurance against becoming entirely unacceptable. They help me do the right thing. And I am terrified of what I would be without them. Because I suspect that, left to my own devices, I would completely lose control of my life.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
Quit that job that’s making you miserable, end the relationship that makes you act like a lunatic, lose the friend whose sole purpose in life is making you feel like you’re perpetually on the verge of vomiting. You’re young, you’re resilient, there are other jobs and relationships and friends if you’re patient and open.
There is a constant need in me to erase everything I have of the past and start again.
I’ve been throwing things out. I’m not one for sentiments, but these are things I used to think I had a connection with only to realize we create these false connections with dead items just so we can fill an empty space that we just couldn’t fill with something living, something alive.
My thoughts are fragmented these days. If I don’t keep a list of things I am suppose to do, I’ll forget almost immediately. I have notes everywhere, as reminders so I am able to function. The irony is the days are the same, the rigid regime never quite changes, it’s the same cycle day in and day out, every week, every month but yet I still can forget the next step if I don’t keep these notes at bay.
I’m obviously falling apart in every aspect, may it be at work or play. I am a recluse now. I enjoy the silence and the lack of laughter/queries. I’m just a bit scared cos I’m liking it a wee bit too much and I worry in due time I’d just shut off from the world completely and eventually stop bleaching my girly fuzz of hair on my upper lip. I figured when that day comes, it’s the day I seek professional help again.
I will not jeopardize my femininity/grooming rituals due to insanity.
We need to move away from this constant need of coming across as calm, cool and collected. WE WEREN’T BUILT TO BE CALM, COOL, AND COLLECTED. If we were, it wouldn’t feel so fucking exhausting all the time. It would, you know, come naturally to us. You know what comes naturally to human beings though? Being open, being messy, being raw, being unfiltered, having lots of feelings. Why should we have to stifle our true nature? Let’s go after the things we want, let’s love each other brutally and honestly, and not worry about the consequences. Let’s release the feelings inside of us and let them land somewhere special. Otherwise, we might have a lifetime of longing in front of us.
Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.
It took so long just to feel alright
Remember how to put back the light in my eyes
I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed
Cause you broke all your promises
And now you’re back
You don’t get to get me back
And who do you think you are
Running around leaving scars
Collecting your jar of heart
And tearing love apart
You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don’t come back for me
Don’t come back at all!
Sigh. There are few things that are a bigger turn off than the guy who constantly proclaims himself to be “nice” and laments why girls just don’t go for him. Just a few of the obvious flaws in this argument: