Blank Title
I feel like such a drab person....I never talk. I'm not sure why. Well, actually, I do talk to my close friends, people I know very well, but if you put me near anyway I don't know so well, for some reason I cannot think of anything to say. Ever. Ahh! I must be overly boring to be around. I mean, I'm the cliche non-rebel. I play classical instruments, I read, I paint, I belong in a coffee shop wearing a beret somewhere, but the only thing is, is that I wouldn't be reading poetry, I'd be sitting at a lonely table, not speaking. I truly wonder how I'm likeable at all, in any manner or fashion.
And, I also have this impending fear that I'm going to live a lonely life. That I'm going to be fourty and live in an apartment with six cats named Mike, Mollie, Max, Melinda, Mammie, and Mo, and I'll work three jobs just so I don't ever have to go home and realize how lonely I am. I think it's connected to the fact that I'm a boring person and no one is ever going to want to stay with me for any amount of time. I've also come to a few more conclusions, but they're too depressing to write about right now.
On a happier note, I've decided to love everyone (in their respective different ways, of course) because love does not exist in this world, simply because people put it away and only want to pretend they love, just so it doesn't hurt so bad. I must admit, I fall into that category too, I don't want to be capable of loving, because I know...I KNOW that one day it will end, as it ALWAYS does, and I never know when it will finally end up driving me crazy, but I know that this is inevitable. Unless, by a miracle I'm able to find someone that doesn't have dissolving love. Or even someone who loves at all. I'm actually quite hopeful that one of those things will happen. Then maybe I wouldn't appear to be so chronically depressed. You know, I'm really a very optimistic person, it's just that I must write about the things that worry me and hurt me. I'm not quite sure why, but if I keep them in, I end up being a bit....insane.
I just don't want to fall into the human condition and find myself living a lonely, loveless, fearful life. That's all. I know why I'm doing this...why I'm worrying. It is my fear. My fear of all the pain that things can cause. As I read earlier "it's not our fear of love, it's our awareness of love's limitations". There's always a paranoia that it could be over at any second in time, and there isn't one thing you could do to stop it. Not one thing. All that is left to do is know that you will break apart and cry, and there is still nothing you can do about it. I wish I could throw myself passionately into my emotions, like I used to be able to. However, it only takes a couple of tears to end that carefree throwing of oneself into all emotion. It only takes a couple of heartbreaks to make one afraid of life, and even more afraid to care. After one big moment of shattering, love is all but lost. That's why it doesn't exist anymore. The funny thing, however, is that it does.
|
