…I’m okay with this.
A friend of mine just messaged me saying “I fucked up. I was doing math with my son, and I told him to ‘hold up eleven fingers’ and he started to panic and I didn’t realize why until he screamed ‘MOM…MOM I ONLY HAVE TEN”
I get way too sensitive when I get attached to someone. I can detect the slightest change in the tone of their voice, and suddenly I’m spending all day trying to figure out what I did wrong.
Just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our past over and over again.
Let them miss you. Sometimes when you’re always available, they take you for granted because they think you’ll always stay.
Most times, it’s just a lot easier not to let the world know what’s wrong.
Compassion hurts. When you feel connected to everything, you also feel responsible for everything. And you cannot turn away. Your destiny is bound with the destinies of others. You must either learn to carry the Universe or be crushed by it. You must grow strong enough to love the world, yet empty enough to sit down at the same table with its worst horrors.
Sometimes you just need someone to tell you that you were brave for trying, and that you’ll be brave again. Because life is not easy, and sometimes you jump into the deep end, and you enjoy it; but eventually you have to swim back to the shallow end, getting to a place that isn’t where you wanted to be. Yet, perhaps you weren’t meant for that pool, maybe it was just training for something bigger, maybe you were getting ready for the ocean; the water that you were always meant to dive into.
You are brave; you might be back where you started, empty handed and alone… But you are gonna feel the crash of those waves, because you are not forgotten, and you are far more courageous than you know.
Sometimes you just need someone to say that you are brave, and that’s what I’m telling you now.
A friend of mine just messaged me saying “I fucked up. I was doing math with my son, and I told him to ‘hold up eleven fingers’ and he started to panic and I didn’t realize why until he screamed ‘MOM…MOM I ONLY HAVE TEN”
I think I’ve come to realize that I need to write my thoughts down. Get them all out as they come. Reason being: I have thousands of them all at once, and instead of purging myself of the mental load, I carry it around with me day in and day out.. there’s no break. I’m feeling myself shutting off from the world because I’m trying to decode the messages that run through my head.. like I don’t have time to speak to anyone since I don’t even know how to begin to separate my internal thoughts from the appropriate responses to people.
I’ve also come to notice that most people just want to be heard. It can be the most pointless bit of information, but people will walk around and tell just about everyone the same story. This happens at work a lot… I don’t get it, but I find it amusing. Mostly because I’m not like that. But why aren’t I? Why do I find it a waste of breath to tell people about my life, however mundane it may be - everyone else can repeat useless stories.. not even stories, moreso statements, to everyone they come in contact with that day, whereas I choose to experience things, share it with maybe one person who I happened to run into shortly after aforementioned experience, and move on. What sort of societal etiquette have I missed out on, or chose not to pick up?
I’ve recently enrolled myself in an interpersonal communication class for school, so we’ll see if this “new quiet self” I’ve chosen to adopt will open back up and I can stop feeling like something is wrong with me when people mention the fact that I’m not who I once was. My thoughts on that are currently “well, duh, we’re all constantly changing.” … enough of that.
I hated knowing what I wanted and knowing what was right and knowing they weren’t the same thing.
