hypocritical paranoid insane not okay

it's a crazy goddamn ride and if you don't hold on,
you're pretty much fucked.

it's like everything you've been living for boils down to this one ridiculously insignificant reason.

he calls it the ecstatic truth because it doesn't exist. it is a falsehood, a created reality in which there is perfection.
like such a place even exists. like a human being could possibly ever feel the true potential of perfection.
i think it is a thing that we chase throughout the course of our lives without ever realising it. whether it's a job, a car, a drug, a lifestyle or a person, we each have a version of perfection, of ultimate happiness that is our ecstatic truth. one in which we can be so completely happy that there is never any sadness.
this is what we fight for.
this is what we live for.
and it hurts, you know? cause we end up living and fighting for it even if we don't know what it is yet. even if, for the moment, it is just to be.

life.

i hate that you're really not worth it.
i hate that i tried to convince myself that you were.
i hate that i'm still doubting whether you are.
i hate that we haven't spoken in nearly a month.
i hate that i didn't try any harder.
i hate that you didn't either.
i hate that i miss you.
i hate that this was inevitable.
i hate that i'm not more independent.
i hate that i'm not saving the world.
i hate that i'm lazy.
i hate that i'm behind.
i hate that you couldn't have what you deserved.
i hate that i'm always tired.
i hate that my priorities are fucked up.
i hate that you couldn't be more.
i hate that it's so much harder listing things you love.
i hate that word.
i hate that i failed.
i hate that i forgot.
i hate that i judged you.
i hate that we both ended up in places we didn't want to be.
i hate that there's so much i should be doing yet i'm sitting here typing this.
i hate that it's four years.
i hate that i don't like it yet.
i hate the fact that i really thought i would have by now.
i hate that i wasn't right.
i hate that i'm selfish.
i hate that i need to.
i hate that they think i am.
i hate that i'm putting all this effort into something that might not even be.
i hate that she was better than me.
i hate that i think that.
i hate that i'm considering it.
i hate that i hate so many things.
i hate that i'm not helping anyone.
i hate him.
i hate that i want to give up.
i hate that the motivation seems to be gone.
i hate that i can't tell you this.
i hate that it's always the ones you least suspect.
i hate that this means nothing.
i hate that i haven't started it yet.
i hate that you don't seem to care.
i hate that there are bigger problems out there and i'm still complaining about this crap instead of doing something about it.
i guess this is my cue to leave.

you're sailing away. dreamer.

sometimes (mostly right now) quitting doesn't seem like such a bad idea. 

in fact, it just might be the best idea i've ever had.

but of course, i'd never say this to your face because that would be the pot calling the kettle black, and we wouldn't want that now, would we?

no.

i thought last year would be the end of this shit. 

that somehow, it'd be different. (that i would be different? maybe.)

yet it seems everything's been said before, done before, tried before, believed before. 

including this.

sure, the names and books and soundtrack and dates and surroundings may have changed, but i'm still the same person pursuing the same (impossible) dreams, all the while trying to find my feet. 

and maybe this is just because it's been one shitty week after another, but i don't even see the point to this anymore. surely there are other things (and people) in life that can make me happy.

i used to think i was better off knowing what i wanted.

and then i started to envy your ignorance. 

and that brings us here.

so i guess this isn't the end. 

i fucking wish it was though.

i'm not done, but for the sake of this (and you), i am.

i'm not sure i've ever understood this until now.

"all the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on." 

- henry ellis

broca's aphasia

"they know what they want to say, but they can't say it." - TP

i don't know.

"we should get jerseys, 'cause we make a good team,
but yours would look better than mine, 'cause you're out of my league.
and i know that it's so clichéd to tell you that every day i spend with you is the new best day of my life."

- must have done something right 

there are always two sides to every story.

as with any other day, this one came and went,
leaving in our shaking hands only remnants of what the world could have been tonight.
and then, like all good things,
it changed.
it ended.
and we were left the same, sad, sorry people we already were.
and here i was thinking you'd teach me how to be somebody different.

it wasn't what i thought it would be.

not in a good way.

but not in a bad way, either. (?)

it just was. 

(or maybe this isn't the case and i'm only fooling myself.)

show me.

love is magic.

or was it the other way around?

you know the person who has to look back and wonder what they could have had?
don't be that person.

how did we get from there to here?

hopscotch and chasy.
to bedspreads and car seats.
red cordial to vodka.
night lights to no lights.
bedtime to all-nighters.
tied shoelaces to barefoot and bleeding.
someone elses thoughts to your own opinion.
holding hands when crossing roads to just holding hands.
hanging back to stepping up.
seat belts to hands on the wheel.
fake i.d's to being legitimate.

when did we start living like we'd always wanted?

72 hours. i can't wait. :)