So there was this girl. She stumbled. She fell. She got back up. The end.
Such a familiar story isn't it? Everyone has a story to tell. Love. Lust. Loss. Heartbreak. Happy Ending. Angry. Happy. Sad. Frustrating. Tiring. Never-Ending... The funny thing is that humans seem to crave a brokenness. Emptiness. We get so reckless with our hearts. Throwing them at anything and everything that looks the least bit promising. Ha. Who am I kidding? It doesn't even have to look promising. Just better than what we have in that moment. Then we wonder why the tears are falling in the end. Screaming at the darkness closing in around us. Always asking...Why me? What did I do? How can I deserve this? Is this pain real? Will I ever be okay? Will I ever be enough? Looking back on my own stories I remember asking myself those same questions. More times than I care to recall. Being young is an adventure. A very dangerous exploration. So let us venture into the Great Perhaps and get royally fucked up on the way.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Life doesn't play fair because it doesn't have to. It doesn't care if you look in the mirror and hate yourself. It sure as hell doesn't care what you do about that hate either. That meal you didn't eat, those scars on your arms, those pills you just took…it’s only affecting your life. It doesn't matter that your daddy never calls or your mom doesn't notice. Who really cares if those little pink lines last a week or a year? Life really doesn't give a damn. It’s going to keep going with or without you. They say there are plenty of people with lives that suck worse than yours. Who are they to say that your problems don’t matter compared to theirs? Your dad left when you were little? Yeah, I’m sorry. I almost got raped when I was sixteen. Does that make my cut any deeper than yours? Does that make your hurt worse than mine? Does it make it okay to take a bow and hope you get a standing ovation for fucking up your life?