I actually don’t remember everything what people tell me. But when I say I remember it, then there’s a 98% that I do. Maybe I don’t remember how exactly I got hurt, but I can remember how it feels and how many times I felt it.
I want to convince myself that nothing will change, that things will be the same every day and forever. But even when the universe had conspired to have two souls collide and be together as one, it doesn’t mean the world owes you a lifetime of bliss.
I want to convince myself that moments happen and I have to be excited for good things to happen instead of fretting to what-may-happen and what-could-not-happen. I want to be as happy as a pig in shit or a happy camper, but maybe I wasn’t built that way.
Everything takes long to happen and I don’t know where will time take me. Nothing is wrong, but I feel less. I guess this is how it feels to have no clue with your journey.
I am helplessly and hopelessly wondering why things have to happen and change so fast around me. Like as if I am in on a fast car in a fast lane without any stopovers and what not.
It’s been months and i still feel the same, I want a ticket out of this mess and be in a place where I want to be point blank.
I hope that I still have a dream and the spark that I have inside doesn’t die. I hope to start seeing forever. I hope I can still hold my breath and stay hover until the end.
It’s a cold reality, and the more I try to push things to happen the more I disappoint myself. I thought I’d be happy by now but I guess I have to let go of the control and let things to happen. I want to keep going like how my heart pumps blood to keep me alive.
Another day at work today. Working with a heavy heart, I’m beginning to lose my interest with my work, it’s not good at all to begin with since I need this job to be, somehow, financially stable. I think it’s a good reason for me to stay here, I don’t have a choice though since I have a contract to fill in for 2 years that started November of last year.
I want to do something that I know and feel will make me truly happy. Something that I learned to love with all my heart, without a space for lost of interest. Something that I want to do every day without bleeding out.
Maybe my 2-year contract is not that long, maybe I won’t notice it. Maybe I should not think selfishly. I need this job, because I have no where to go. Because my choice closed its door at me when I decided to do this job. It happend because of a reason, because I need this job. Wanting it will take time, maybe not now, tomorrow, or next week. Maybe someday.
A few days from today, I’ll turn quarter and two, but I don’t think I’ll cebrate. I never had a birthday party, or at least as far as I could remember. I guess I’m not that kind of person who celebrates the day he was born, or probably I expect that someone would throw one for me. If you’ll ask me, I can’t remember a happy birthday— party hats, birthday cake, birthday gifts, a surprise party nor a birthday song.
Have you ever had that blissful thought that created a little spark in you and made you want the ember to burn until it completely shine at its brightest? I have that feeling now and I don’t want to let it die with my dreams and hopeful soul. I know things will go in place in the right time, so I look forward with heads up for twenty-fourteen. There is so much to do and I don’t want this feeling to disappear for the world.
No one should ever ask themselves that: why am I unhappy? The question carries within it the virus that will destroy everything. If we ask that question, it means we want to find out what makes us happy. If what makes us happy is different from what we have now, then we must either change once and for all or stay as we are, feeling even more unhappy.
He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others—the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad. -
Jonathan Safran Foer
There are moments that are really worth remembering. Maybe it’s a little bit crazy to ponder about the past, but it makes me feel alright inside.