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Untrusted Feelings
I used to like writing. I used to be keen with what I write about, and how I write about it.
I have my reasons with why I stopped, and I shouldn't have trusted them. The dryness is never an adequate feeling. Merely smiling to be happy isn't enough. The lack of honesty always worries me, but, I wonder, why not be honest?
Probably because. . The point of honesty is to portray a message to the world, so as to make it a better place. But then it's hard.
I know why it's hard. Because things that can make big changes first require big decisions. I suppose the world is getting to me and my honesty. The pressure. So much pressure.
Yes. My honesty won't ruin the world. It would just ruin me. It's selfish, but I can't trust the feelings in the back of my head.
No, it's not true.
Alone
It's just one of those days when you feel utterly useless, where somehow everything you do just seems wrong, and yer probably one of the only people in the world experiencing a day of utter failure, and yer willing toa ctually meet one of those people and just be. . . understood.
I know for a fact that I'm not alone, but where are those other people who face whatever i have to face, or have been facing?
Problems seem closer to me than to any other person. Well, in those certain days.
Shortcut
The goal for contentment can easily be lost. After all, the human heart can never stop wanting or desiring. It's not that its right to stop trying to be content with life, its just that its way easier to just want and long for something forbidden. Besides, either way, it hurts.
And it isn't just because of those songs that make you remember, the familiar places that you've been to, the people you know, or any of that. It's not jsut because of those escapable things. It's those memories that you can't seem to shake of. Those notices that you have to forgive, and yet probably impossible to forget. Besides, it was a first. . . how can it be forgotten?
Being told to just forget is just. . . well, its contentment, or a part of it. Up until now, I can say that the things around me and my God have kept me from him. I felt happy, and I never wanted to go back to the past. I forgave, and I didn't want to remember.
He was the distraction. Maybe everything else was there for me to see, love, and experience, but he just came so perfect at merely the wrong time. It was my own fault to complicate life this much. I guess I was dumb. Naive. It can't be helped. I'll always be more naive today than yesterday.
I can't seem to forget. . . how happy we were in the past. Or, at least, i was happy. If the world was mine to give, I'd probably give it to him. That's how much I loved.
But maybe wallowing and remembering isn't the best solution. Although it's so much easier.
Keep Telling Yourself
So I like him. But may be in a year or two, I won't. One day, I won't. At this very moment, I can say i'm tortured. But it's only a moment.
I've had my share of moments.
I've had that moment when I was jealous of that other girl. . . I regret. i never had the right.
I've had that moment of arguing with you. . . saying I thought we had to end. I meant it that time, but. . .
I've had that moment when I loved you, and felt loved by you. But like the time i was mad at you, it didn't last.
I have moments when I still love you, when I want to see you smile that smile. Maybe it'll pass too. Why not? It isn't that bad. Although it sucks that I give it a lot of credit. Like now.
Moments are just moments. A passing a time. A vapor in the wind. They should have never been the basis of anything...
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