“-I envy religious people.
-Yeah but I also feel bad for them.
-We feel bad for them on an intellectual level but they feel bad for us on a spiritual one.”
“I sometimes wish that I could go back to believing. To go back to being delusional again because I think I was happier. But I can’t, I have already killed God.”
How could two contradictory desires live within one being? On the one hand, I want to experience so much in life. I want to learn how to play music, to read all great books, to travel & visit all places, to learn all languages. I want to accomplish & make a difference. But then on the other hand, I would also like for my life to end, for all life to end. There are so many unanswered questions. So much misery & heartbreak that no part of me wants to experience. I live in the fear of tommorw. I live in the fear of the continuation of today. The tedium of life is the end of it, not death. How could a person have so much life in them at one moment, and none at all another?
The way I dealt with stress in the past was by putting my stressors in order, from the most stressful to the least, and then working on getting rid of the first on the list while completely blocking the rest out of my mind. One stressor at a time. You can’t drown that way. But lately, my stressors have been so interconnected that it’s impossible for me to deal with one without the other. They’re too many & are all of great significance. On top of that, a few major stressors of these are entirely out of my control. Ones without simple & quick solutions. Ones the cure of which lies in time. But time takes time & I’m running out of energy. I’m getting tired, slowly losing the power to tread water, to keep my head above the surface.
I get optimism now. I understand the need for it. Sometimes you can’t afford to be pessimistic or even realistic about a situation. You can’t afford considering the worst possibility. It cripples you to even momentarily think about it. It does not exist. Life is all happy endings. Your situation is the exception to the rule. It’ll never happen to you. Repeat this to yourself. Repeat it so you could wake up in the morning, go to work, eat, fall asleep, and be able to continue to breathe.
I hate this body. I hate it but not in the sense that I’m not comfortable in my own skin. Not in the self-loathing, insecure, human ‘I’m so fat & ugly’ way. I hate this body for all that comes with it & all it prevents me from doing. I hate it for the sole reason that it makes me weaker (or at least perceived in such a way). I hate that I can’t fully be the person I want to be because of it. I hate that I’m supposed to fear men and hate it more that there’s a good reason for it.
But what I hate most is the realization of the fact that the purpose of my creation is secondary. God created Adam then Eve. He ultimately made us to please men & bear their children.
You carry a “precious jewel” between your legs. One that’s more precious being untouched, but even after, remains of some value. As long as men exist, that thing between your legs, the sad reason for your imprisonment, is desired. As long as you carry what they desire (for the length of your life), you’re not safe. And as long as you’re not safe, you’re not free.
Never trust fully, trust enough. That’s what I’d say to a person. I have a good number of close friends & family members but I can say with all honesty that there isn’t a single person who I trust blindly. No one person knows everything about me. I share different secrets with different people & don’t share all with just one. That’s if I share at all since most secrets I keep to myself. The reason for that is not that I don’t believe in the concept of trust, because I do except what I trust in most is the human nature.
Every person has her/his own interest at heart. I may believe you have no intention of harming me now or ever but I can’t tell what intentions future you may develop. I trust that you’d have my back against others but what if it was between saving me or saving you for example? You’d save you and I can’t say I’d blame you for it. I don’t ever want to feel that someone has leverage over me for something I could’ve kept to myself if that makes any sense. I don’t want to be anxious about breaking ties with a person one day because of the potential of them exposing me. I don’t want to see a person walk away with important pieces of me. I sound paranoid & you’d think I have deep dark secrets but the truth is most of my “secrets” are stuff no one would think twice about but maybe it’s because I’m a private person in real life & would like to keep it that way.
I like writing about love because I remember a time when I used to hate it, belittle & constantly make fun of it. I genuinly didn’t get it. I didn’t get love or people in love. I didn’t get romance or that crazy stupid love people talk about. Not until I experienced it myself. Love is incredibly beautiful, and ugly, and confusing and scary and painful. Every emotion you know is experienced under the name of love. You sometimes want to write about it and scream it to the world. Other times you just want to cuss it.
However, the one constant thing is, you always want it to succeed. You want to see love bloom. You want it to traimph hate and every negative emotion known to you. You cling to it like hope and pray for it like a good friend or a child.