We make so many excuses for ourselves. I can't write anymore, and who do I blame it on? Maybe he intimidates me, in that aspect too-- So it's your fault. I hope you're happy.
Thanksgiving is coming and it's gonna be big.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Rant
You'd think with all the time spent phrasing and rephrasing these thoughts in my head that I'd be able to say it when it mattered, right? But your heart skips a beat, maybe, and so did mine-- my palms start to sweat and gods, you're not even here. This makes too much sense to be real.
We kid ourselves, so much. Not just you and I, dear, but everyone. Like with movies, and music. There are stages in this. When we're kids we believe in love and magic and cooties, things that don't need proof, things with which words are enough. We grow up a little, we become tadpoles with legs, and we realize that these things don't really exist, except for love-- for some reason love is the hardest one to let go of. Santa Claus can fly away with nary a tear, the Tooth Fairy's dead on our floor and we don't raise a hand to clap her back, Disney's not the wizard we thought he was. Then our sex drive kicks in and we have a very different view of cooties.
Love is what we hold on to, and for what? I don't mean to be the Negative Nancy in the room but honestly, for what? Love is the most selfish thing that we've ever given ourselves, the human race. Love is the perfect excuse. Deceit, and lies and murder-- love absolves us of our sin. For God so loved the world, that He gave His one and only Son, so that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16 or whatever.
We figure everyone else out but ourselves. We can look at someone once and judge them, rake our eyes up and down and think we know everything about them-- and for the most part, we do. Don't give me this bullshit about getting to know people. If we're being honest, and I am, it's the sickest part of life. We bitch and whine and complain about how much people don't make sense but we do. We make so much sense it can't even be real.
Stop looking at things in context. Stop thinking about the back story, and the complications, and the tangents. Look at what is going on and see it for what it is. The only reason we make things more complicated than they are is because they're all we have. Complicated situations make us feel important, they make us feel like we have some purpose on this planet. We don't-- of course we don't. As a rule we don't matter. None of those things you worry about matter, as a rule. It's about exceptions.
I don't think people realize how much of their life is in their own hands. I don't think people realize how much different their life could be if they took responsibility and stopped pussy-footing around. I'm not perfect, neither are you. But I can go to sleep at night because at the end of the day I don't take life as seriously as you do. There will always be another day. And if there isn't, it doesn't matter. You'll either be in a better place or thrust into the realms of nonexistence.
/rant
We kid ourselves, so much. Not just you and I, dear, but everyone. Like with movies, and music. There are stages in this. When we're kids we believe in love and magic and cooties, things that don't need proof, things with which words are enough. We grow up a little, we become tadpoles with legs, and we realize that these things don't really exist, except for love-- for some reason love is the hardest one to let go of. Santa Claus can fly away with nary a tear, the Tooth Fairy's dead on our floor and we don't raise a hand to clap her back, Disney's not the wizard we thought he was. Then our sex drive kicks in and we have a very different view of cooties.
Love is what we hold on to, and for what? I don't mean to be the Negative Nancy in the room but honestly, for what? Love is the most selfish thing that we've ever given ourselves, the human race. Love is the perfect excuse. Deceit, and lies and murder-- love absolves us of our sin. For God so loved the world, that He gave His one and only Son, so that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16 or whatever.
We figure everyone else out but ourselves. We can look at someone once and judge them, rake our eyes up and down and think we know everything about them-- and for the most part, we do. Don't give me this bullshit about getting to know people. If we're being honest, and I am, it's the sickest part of life. We bitch and whine and complain about how much people don't make sense but we do. We make so much sense it can't even be real.
Stop looking at things in context. Stop thinking about the back story, and the complications, and the tangents. Look at what is going on and see it for what it is. The only reason we make things more complicated than they are is because they're all we have. Complicated situations make us feel important, they make us feel like we have some purpose on this planet. We don't-- of course we don't. As a rule we don't matter. None of those things you worry about matter, as a rule. It's about exceptions.
I don't think people realize how much of their life is in their own hands. I don't think people realize how much different their life could be if they took responsibility and stopped pussy-footing around. I'm not perfect, neither are you. But I can go to sleep at night because at the end of the day I don't take life as seriously as you do. There will always be another day. And if there isn't, it doesn't matter. You'll either be in a better place or thrust into the realms of nonexistence.
/rant
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