Crying, from laughing so hard.
You go to the gay club to check out girls, but you never actually go up and talk to them.
That’s 100% me lol
If only she had known that is was too late. I had slipped into that crevice between anger, laziness and despair. I wanted to shut out the world, and silence everyone in it with a quick flick of my wrist, slitting the throats of those that surrounded me. Why was I feeling this way? What had happened to make me question myself and lose confidence. I couldn’t help but my feel my inner neurosis was playing a trick on me, making me depressed on purpose; moving like a functioning catatonic. How could I escape the mental hold that was breaking me down? How do you fight nothingness?
It was raining. I stared up to the 8th floor of her project building. Hood pulled up. Drizzle in my eyes. Breath fogging up the night sky. I had walked the 10 blocks from the train, I hated city buses. Didn’t care that the next day i’d have a stuffy nose. All I could think of is how much I wanted her back. I checked my phone, the bar already on yellow.
I sat there, slovenly contemplating what my next move should be. I’d sat on that couch, all weekend, truly wallowing in my own self deprecation, thoughts racing, deciding what emotion it was that I truly felt. At first there was nausea. The panic and pressure of decision making and hurting someone’s feelings sometimes made me sick. Then there was my good old friends ambivalence, anger, grief, acceptance. The usual cycle. Lately, I was deciding what my relationships over the past few years had really meant to me. Were they worth it? Suddenly, I felt pushed and pulled in every direction at once, and part of me believed I had caused the confusion. I was carrying a happy secret that I wasn’t allowed to tell the world and somehow it was slowly dragging me down. It simultaneously caused me great pleasure and great pain. In order to keep it I had to learn to no be so “me” like, whatever that meant. I’d been too open and too willing to sway to the needs and opinions of others, and now my ego was asking, “are these thoughts yours? Is this secret really yours? Are these dreams yours, or merely an extension you being a doormat?”
“No, this dream is mine, no one wants to dream alone”
“I don’t know, you were always good at rationalizing other peoples thoughts and opinions and passing them off as your own”
“I think a lot of it comes from me not truly knowing what the fuck I’m doing. So if something sounds interesting, and it stirs me, I’m going to fucking do it”
“Ok, fine. But learn to say NO on your journey”
Learn to say no. That was a hard one. I know people wouldn’t understand, or expect it, but by that point a large part of me didn’t care. I just wanted to do what I wanted to do and not be questioned. Who cares if sometimes I had to go it alone. Part of me was tired of always being fucking nice. Being a good “friend”. Where had that gotten me? What had that gotten me? This was a chance to do it all for my glory. Selfish? Yes. But what do I care.
In this land of thieves and martyrs who really has ownership? Do people leave or are they just forgotten? A choice is a choice regardless who makes it. We learn from own mistakes and from luck. Our progression is dependant on our adaptability and willingness to accept what we cant control. Again, who has ownership?