Why did I ever stop writing? #Questiontomypast
You’re home… So is he.
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Paris and New York.
Paris because the french cuisine is something I’ve always wanted to experience, more so in the heart of France,not to mention the wine…
New York because, well, who can resist the city that never sleeps?
I don’t want to believe that ‘true love’ comes with a package,with eternal companionship being it’s premium option. That would be too crude, and mildly misconceiving love. Love can’t be defined by human restrictions or conditions in my opinion.
So, eventually breaking up with someone doesn’t mean it wasn’t true love. It just means y’all probably weren’t true to the love. Again, my opinion
It’s no secret, I have trust issues. Now when I say that I don’t mean I find it hard trusting people - the problem is rather the fact that I’m way too trusting.
That being said, I don’t believe I’ve ever revealed my biggest secrets to anyone. The lock-and-key secrets, the ones with the keys thrown away, the ones I’d never want to revisit, I’ve never told anyone.
The one person I’ve come close to revealing all is this girl I have this tragic crush on. That’s it. For all intents or purposes, she’s the person I trust with my ‘biggest’ secrets.
(Source: speakless)
So I’m sitting home listening to my roommate’s friend talking about his rich sex life. All credit to the guy, he’s one mean SOB. Like seriously his stories make me think of some TV show bad boy who gets the girl just for the night, and gets her friend the next night. Okay I’m not saying it’s unreal or whatever it’s just when someone splashes his daily sexual exploits in your face, everyday, you kind of start comparing; it’s no secret yours truly is not the brightest star in the sex constellation. Truth be told I’m probably just a fledgling in it’s minor constellation, so this dude’s exploits kind of impress me. That would be all good if I were just impressed, and not filling up with regret.
Now this is where the religious morals I’ve grown up with all my life kick-in and remind me that I should not be envious of stuff like fornication, which is, you know, the religious word for young people fucking. Well, lately I’ve found I’d much rather live a life void of regret than some hypocritical façade that belies strong feelings of compunction. No seriously it’s not like I’m saying I wanna go against everything that was rammed into my brain for the better part of my life, I’m just saying that I could find my life more fulfilling if I didn’t have to constantly feel remorseful for stuff that really, really pleases me - at the same time experiencing great distress for the stuff that I wanna do, but can’t. Same difference.
You know it’s not even all about the sex. It’s much more than that. It’s about all these things that really appeal to the person I am, yet are for the greater part, frowned upon by the majority of people that surround me. I’m not asking for emancipation, I’m just crying out for approval or for want of it, tolerance. I’m sick of living a lie. My life is full of regret, and so far it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. Neither have those beliefs I’ve lived with for ages now. As it stands, I’m much better off doing what I wanna, irrespective of who says what.
Here’s my odd tale of regret, spurred by glorious tales of sex. *scoffs* funny how I’d have an epiphany cause of someone’s sex life. Typical me. Smh.
“…And she was hurt bad. The pain she felt couldn’t be numbed by the many cuts on her wrists, or the countless pills on her bed. She was hurt bad.”
think I’ve finally accepted the fact that I am, indeed, an existential nihilist. I think it’s a simple way to live, really, knowing that in the grand scheme of things nothing I do will ever matter. That used to frighten me, but now it just comforts me. My life will never have meaning, except for that which I create to make my existence more bearable.
(via sheranaway-inhersleep)