“I remember awakening one morning and finding everything smeared with the color of forgotten love.”—What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire by Charles Bukowski (via thechocolatebrigade)
as followed by others. yes, i am screwed up. i am very much screwed up. not in what you would expect. not the type when too much alcohol is consumed, when too many joints are lit, or the nights that are spent away. no, i am not like that. but i am still fucked up, just as badly as you. i am not normal, i am indecisive, i am contradictory, i am tangled up, some of those knots were created by me, and some strung themselves into my life spontaneously. i may not be running from one place to another, but i’m running from myself. i’m constantly fighting with my mind to figure out what’s right, battling with the secrets and the lost answers.
it’s about time we all admit we’re all fucked up. this masquerade has to go. we are brittle, our minds are fragile. as humans, we think we have this need to be invincible and front it to the world. we’re flawed, we’re not doomed.
i want to live a thousand different lives. i want to read books for the rest of my life. i want to travel. i want to be in school. i want to fall in love. i want to discover myself. i want to learn about others. i want to know what all these feelings and emotions mean. i want to know why i’m incapable of letting go when all i want to do is escape. i want balance and i want chaos. i want to experience everything. i want to know everyone’s story. i want to save the world. i want madness and i want solitude. i want improvement. i want to know why the small things in my life make my heart tingle. i want to know why i’m never satisfied and why i always crave for change. i want too much. there is not enough time to discover, to learn, to love, to cry, to be happy. i want to be infinite. i am trapped in my own spiral of thoughts.
but what happens when the greatest person rolls around? you are still going to escape, aren’t you. you’re still going to find something wrong with them when they are perfectly imperfect for you. you’re going to find a reason to run away. you’re always going to find a reason to leave as long as it prevents you from getting close.
i told a friend that i don’t have real friends and he didn’t believe me. he raised his eyebrow, quirked his head, looked at me straight in the eye and said, “you have real friends. everyone likes you. you walk into a room and everyone greets you with hugs and smiles.”
but it’s never that easy. when i get a burst of sadness, who do i crawl to? who do i rush to with tears and an awful attitude? i have no place to run. i have nowhere to go.
too many nights i spent drunk are followed with nostalgia and depression and anger and frustration. not enough happiness, not what everyone else feels. too many nights i crawl into bed wondering how i can change myself, when i will change myself, but never caring enough to. too many days i wander around looking for a sign, looking for a place to escape, only to always retreat back to my room, with the door closed, with a pile of tissues waiting to be used.
there are no real friends in my life. everything is temporary. everything is conditional. i’m waiting to leave.
“I’m just having all these feelings and I don’t know what they mean. It’s like I was going along and it just snuck up on me. And I tried to ignore it, but then there’s these moments that you can’t. Maybe I was reading it wrong. I know it sounds sappy, but I thought, just for a minute, someone needed me.”—Lois Lane, Smallville
want to know what i miss most about being a teenager?
i miss feeling alive, and being alive, and being so euphoric and so depressed and being a mess. hating everything and loving everything and being so conflicted but somehow it doesn’t bother you, because you love the chaos in your life. and now look at me. i’m living in the middle. i laugh a little, i love a little, i rarely discover who i am or what life has to offer me.
i hardly know who i am anymore. i’m living a lifestyle i never wanted to live. i only want to be happy if it means i’m going to experience euphoria. i only want to be happy if it means i will be so depressed that i’m just so full of emotion all the time.
happiness, anger, frustration, depression, disgust, fear. give it all. i want it all. i want every emotion rushing through me.