I don't really want to label our polarities regarding optimism and judgement of hope and happiness in terms of their distances from one another on a 'spectrum' of some, unknown kind. I am the first to admit that my view of the world is tragic yet comnonly mis-reffered to unjustifiably as merely, cynical or depressing. It's not really depressing. To use my most loathed phrase but also my most used, it is what it is, really is the most fitting. I like to think that i think logically about things, I don't romanticize them and no I am not a dreamer. and hell yes i wish i was. doesn't everyone, ignorance is bliss, yes yes yes.
i can dream all i want about moving to brooklyn and being really happy there with an ideal career but let's be honest if you do not have the money to live out there or the proper school education to obtain the job of your dreams, it simply is not going to happen. i get that i am missing the point, also.
the point is that, allegedly, thinking not only positively but also constantly about your life goals is somehow supposed to induce one's motivation and drive and thus, somehow create actions in perfect accordance to the dream guidelines in which one's imagination has rendered so colorfully. I want to buy it! I really do! Am I missing something? Perhaps all of this mental fanticzing is supposed to accelerate one's self esteem to levels that promote action and public, good reception leading to the actualization of such fantasies. I just have not found this to be the case. Not only am I not moving forward, I am stagnating here, getting older and growing green mold while I watch new babies come into the world blank and ready. a tabula rasa of sorts waiting to graffittied over in dreams of the future. it isn't really possible to think about now or present anymore, i dont think. of course it never has been for me, personally.
its not that i think that life is all together horrible i dont. as trite as it sounds and actually, is, there is ups and downs. but, for some people, (and no for me this has nothing to do with so called "fate") they just tend to get away with going through life much more smoothly than others. i dont know if its luck or chance but it isnt fate is just once again, is what it is and probably doesnt mean a fucking thing.
im not cynical, im not cold or heartless i think that i am just the oppsite. but i feel the scars and weeds growing and growing and tangling and tangling over my heart more and more each day. i know there is so much beauty so much joy happiness and good in the world, i do, i know this. and i can see it sometimes, i really can and it makes me want to cry because i am so happy. But sometimes i can not seem to disconnect myself from the rest of the world, all of the suffering, the loss, and all the other hearts out there who arent merely tangled or grown over but broken and there is no going back. I cant think about it, all the lives lost and ruined and killed and the heart stopped against there will, or kept alive against there will which is even worse. I can't seperate myself from these unified beats and i sit in bed and abosrb it all because i can't fathom what it would be like and i want to feel with everybody because i dont want anyone to be alone. because thats it. i love a good distraction like religion, horoscopes, faith, love, promises, etc. just like everyone else does but in the end its just you. and i dont want to be alone i dont want to feel alone i want everybody to share and i want to take away people's pain and put back some of the shattered peices back together for them, at least one or two or something so that at least they can still feel, because numbness is the ultimate hell there could ever be, i know it. some people get it too hard, they don't deserve it, i want to share it, to take some from them, so at least we can all be just okay. its just not fair. and i want to help but i cant. no one really can, thats the issue at hand. and all of this pain and beauty and suffering makes it so hard sometimes, to get out of bed.
and thats why i love you so much too, distraction or not. because you'd try until your burried alive or dead to solve someone's problems for them if you could. you experience pain and joy at such extremes and you can smell it when someone hurts, whether there is blood on the ground or not. you'd put a band-aid over everyone who experienced what you did, if you could. and sometimes i think you are really are all better from all those wounds and scratches imprinted on your heart when you were young but i see that your not sometimes when talk you talk about your dad or your old dog and how much you would give to make them happy. and i see your eyes glitter with desparation but no signs of resignition and i hurt with you and take a peice of it with me. i still want to wrap your whole body in band aids and take the bruises away from you so that you knew the truth and that it didn't mean anything, that it isnt about you, and that you are the most beautiful thing to me. but i cant because in the end its only me.
and i think that this is the difference, in this way, about you and me.
note to self -reality is somewhere in the middle
i can dream all i want about moving to brooklyn and being really happy there with an ideal career but let's be honest if you do not have the money to live out there or the proper school education to obtain the job of your dreams, it simply is not going to happen. i get that i am missing the point, also.
the point is that, allegedly, thinking not only positively but also constantly about your life goals is somehow supposed to induce one's motivation and drive and thus, somehow create actions in perfect accordance to the dream guidelines in which one's imagination has rendered so colorfully. I want to buy it! I really do! Am I missing something? Perhaps all of this mental fanticzing is supposed to accelerate one's self esteem to levels that promote action and public, good reception leading to the actualization of such fantasies. I just have not found this to be the case. Not only am I not moving forward, I am stagnating here, getting older and growing green mold while I watch new babies come into the world blank and ready. a tabula rasa of sorts waiting to graffittied over in dreams of the future. it isn't really possible to think about now or present anymore, i dont think. of course it never has been for me, personally.
its not that i think that life is all together horrible i dont. as trite as it sounds and actually, is, there is ups and downs. but, for some people, (and no for me this has nothing to do with so called "fate") they just tend to get away with going through life much more smoothly than others. i dont know if its luck or chance but it isnt fate is just once again, is what it is and probably doesnt mean a fucking thing.
im not cynical, im not cold or heartless i think that i am just the oppsite. but i feel the scars and weeds growing and growing and tangling and tangling over my heart more and more each day. i know there is so much beauty so much joy happiness and good in the world, i do, i know this. and i can see it sometimes, i really can and it makes me want to cry because i am so happy. But sometimes i can not seem to disconnect myself from the rest of the world, all of the suffering, the loss, and all the other hearts out there who arent merely tangled or grown over but broken and there is no going back. I cant think about it, all the lives lost and ruined and killed and the heart stopped against there will, or kept alive against there will which is even worse. I can't seperate myself from these unified beats and i sit in bed and abosrb it all because i can't fathom what it would be like and i want to feel with everybody because i dont want anyone to be alone. because thats it. i love a good distraction like religion, horoscopes, faith, love, promises, etc. just like everyone else does but in the end its just you. and i dont want to be alone i dont want to feel alone i want everybody to share and i want to take away people's pain and put back some of the shattered peices back together for them, at least one or two or something so that at least they can still feel, because numbness is the ultimate hell there could ever be, i know it. some people get it too hard, they don't deserve it, i want to share it, to take some from them, so at least we can all be just okay. its just not fair. and i want to help but i cant. no one really can, thats the issue at hand. and all of this pain and beauty and suffering makes it so hard sometimes, to get out of bed.
and thats why i love you so much too, distraction or not. because you'd try until your burried alive or dead to solve someone's problems for them if you could. you experience pain and joy at such extremes and you can smell it when someone hurts, whether there is blood on the ground or not. you'd put a band-aid over everyone who experienced what you did, if you could. and sometimes i think you are really are all better from all those wounds and scratches imprinted on your heart when you were young but i see that your not sometimes when talk you talk about your dad or your old dog and how much you would give to make them happy. and i see your eyes glitter with desparation but no signs of resignition and i hurt with you and take a peice of it with me. i still want to wrap your whole body in band aids and take the bruises away from you so that you knew the truth and that it didn't mean anything, that it isnt about you, and that you are the most beautiful thing to me. but i cant because in the end its only me.
and i think that this is the difference, in this way, about you and me.
note to self -reality is somewhere in the middle
