this one was too exciting, this one was too boring, and this one was?
i'm at the point again where i feel like i should update just because it has been so long. i'm sure many things have happened, but nothing feels worthy of really reporting. or you know, recording for the future's sake. but i suppose i will try.
once again, i have found myself paying (emotionally, financially, mentally, etc, etc) for pretending not to know the things that i actually knew. it's strange when we (or i really, since i can only speak of myself) make plans and do things despite knowing that we shouldn't be doing it. asking questions i already know the answer to, but accepting falsities because i don't really want to believe what i know in my heart is true. i feel so pathetic having disregarded my instincts and my gut simply because i wanted something so bad to be true.
but what was i even striving for? yet another lackluster relationship that means more to me than the other person. i get so frustrated by my inability to recognize (or rather accept and move on) when i'm in a one sided relationship. i hate that i believe other people so easily and trust that they know themselves as i know myself. i hate that i hate myself for trusting. i think that's the most fucked up part of all. it's so heartbreaking that that's the outcome. i don't want this to be the pattern. i don't want this to be my mo.
ugh, anyway, move along, move along.
which reminds me that of late i have really just wanted to run away from everything and everyone. you know, if i just keep moving faster than my life can crumble, it'll always be ok... (yeah right.) why is there something so romantic about packing up and leaving everything behind? cutting off all ties and becoming a "new" person? i have been dreaming lately of what it would be like to just move to france, or london, or spain, or somewhere equally as mysterious and lovely. i could spend the rest of my life working in a cafe, or being a bum under a bridge, or hell, working in a convent along the northern route. it doesn't seem that bad. spend the rest of my life in quiet solitude. i'm pretty good at being the weird, quiet, journal writing girl. sometimes, i think that is when i'm happiest. i'm not good at real relationships anyway. i should just do what i'm good at. is there a point to fighting who i am for the rest of my life? or should i just accept it and go with it?
in mostly unrelated other feelings. i really love ted leo. he's got such great lyrics and the music is amazing. sigh.
here's to how everything should be.
once again, i have found myself paying (emotionally, financially, mentally, etc, etc) for pretending not to know the things that i actually knew. it's strange when we (or i really, since i can only speak of myself) make plans and do things despite knowing that we shouldn't be doing it. asking questions i already know the answer to, but accepting falsities because i don't really want to believe what i know in my heart is true. i feel so pathetic having disregarded my instincts and my gut simply because i wanted something so bad to be true.
but what was i even striving for? yet another lackluster relationship that means more to me than the other person. i get so frustrated by my inability to recognize (or rather accept and move on) when i'm in a one sided relationship. i hate that i believe other people so easily and trust that they know themselves as i know myself. i hate that i hate myself for trusting. i think that's the most fucked up part of all. it's so heartbreaking that that's the outcome. i don't want this to be the pattern. i don't want this to be my mo.
ugh, anyway, move along, move along.
which reminds me that of late i have really just wanted to run away from everything and everyone. you know, if i just keep moving faster than my life can crumble, it'll always be ok... (yeah right.) why is there something so romantic about packing up and leaving everything behind? cutting off all ties and becoming a "new" person? i have been dreaming lately of what it would be like to just move to france, or london, or spain, or somewhere equally as mysterious and lovely. i could spend the rest of my life working in a cafe, or being a bum under a bridge, or hell, working in a convent along the northern route. it doesn't seem that bad. spend the rest of my life in quiet solitude. i'm pretty good at being the weird, quiet, journal writing girl. sometimes, i think that is when i'm happiest. i'm not good at real relationships anyway. i should just do what i'm good at. is there a point to fighting who i am for the rest of my life? or should i just accept it and go with it?
in mostly unrelated other feelings. i really love ted leo. he's got such great lyrics and the music is amazing. sigh.
here's to how everything should be.