this is all i've got my ability to deny you all the truths that you so expertly s e e t h r o u g h but until these words pass through my lips. . . [[itsmerelyspeculation]] though i could f a l l in LoVe faster than a plane COLLIDING with the Earth the sad thing is, wishing on a falling star doesn't always work doesn't always work doesn't always work
i've been putting this off for weeks running HIGH SPEED away from all these feelings then i s.t.o.p.p.e.d. dead in my tracks when i realized that l00king into your eyes, is just like staring at a +car crash+ and the sad thing is, wishing on a falling star doesn't always work doesn't always work doesn't always work
[Mindset| blank and bitchy ] [Lullaby| Someone laughing ]
For the past week, people – family and friends – have been advising me to cry, to show some resemble of emotion.
I find that whole argument flimsy, not because I am not affected, but because crying would not solve anything. They keep on saying that I would feel better after I have drowned myself in about a bucket of my own tears; who are they to say what I am feeling at all.
Honestly, I feel blank; I just continue with the routine I’ve had for the last two years: weekends I stay very late and sleep around 3 in the morning, eat, I am online most of my waking hours; weekdays, I wake up, go to work, go home, take a bath, sleep and do it over again.
I feel no need to be sad, most especially to cry.
Despite appearances, I am a very emotional creature; I cry very easily. I get affected by the smallest of things. The fact that I do not voice out every emotion, or refrain from being reaction does not mean that I am trying to a human rock; I am just choosing to deal with hindrances differently than other people, or other females. It does not mean that I am any less of a woman just because I think like a man, or chose to act like one emotionally.
Crying is the equivalent of weakness of for me. No, it does mean that those who I have consigned as human hosepipes are weak, but the act of crying is a form of vulnerability. I see crying as the very last resort of humanity when they are not able to explain what they’re feeling or whenever they cannot accept their situation, or when the feel that they need to accept failure. That being the case, what have I lost? I am able to explain my situation; what, in God’s name, failure should I accept?
Yes, someone very close and dear to me has left. So what? He is coming back. We are not in any way manner or form in any “special” relationship with each other. Why is everyone worried about me? Why is everyone trying to solve a problem that I, to begin with, do not consider as a problem?
You told me that we should get our acts together because we are getting old; “Mother, getting old is relative.” Yes we have the same arguments and we treat each other as we were when we were sixteen – we have not matured; we refuse to acknowledge what we know is there.
Fine, that is true.
But why should that bother anyone else; it is, after all, our problem.
If we happen to decide to talk about it, be brave and finally admit something we know has been there for God knows how long, then that is our call. If not, then that is our mistake, and burden, to have.
So please… I KNOW WHERE I STAND IN HIS LIFE, SO STOP BADGERING ME!!! These are mistakes that I need to make; this is a bad yet comfortable situation that we both languish in; it is something that is ours. No matter how long or how hard we – myself particularly – try to make others understand the dynamics of this eccentric relationship, let alone how it works, nobody could ever understand it. The term “it’s complicated” has been patented to our names, and somehow I am happy about it.
“Yes, mother, we have not progressed at all, but this place where we have been stagnated for the last 10 years, is one of the three things that are considered REAL in my life, so let it be.”