I can't hear you.
Everyone has a story.
Their defense mechanism story, the default vignette you've said a thousand times to cover up your mistakes. Because somehow, everything that goes wrong in your life can be attributed to that one thing that happened to you. The end all event that forever will be the mop for all of your messy life mistakes.
Everyone has a story.
I was fat when I was a kid.
My parents fought all the time.
She cheated on me with my best friend.
I got beat up a lot.
I was never as good as the boys.
He left me.
My best friend died.
He was never the same after that.
I just wasn't smart enough.
She didn't love me back.
It's the default story we fall back on because when we fuck up, we desperately search for an explanation to fill that void of uncertainty in our actions. Why did I do that? Because he cheated on me. Because my mom and dad split. Because my best friend moved away. And yes, of course the past shapes us. And of course we are who we are because of the stories. But there's a fine line between a story being a part of who you are, and that story being your goddamn excuse for everything miserable you do.
And sometimes I am so tired of that fall back story. Because it becomes so routine that I wonder if I even give a shit about what happened, I just can't come to terms with the inconsistencies in life. I always have to have an excuse.
Their defense mechanism story, the default vignette you've said a thousand times to cover up your mistakes. Because somehow, everything that goes wrong in your life can be attributed to that one thing that happened to you. The end all event that forever will be the mop for all of your messy life mistakes.
Everyone has a story.
I was fat when I was a kid.
My parents fought all the time.
She cheated on me with my best friend.
I got beat up a lot.
I was never as good as the boys.
He left me.
My best friend died.
He was never the same after that.
I just wasn't smart enough.
She didn't love me back.
It's the default story we fall back on because when we fuck up, we desperately search for an explanation to fill that void of uncertainty in our actions. Why did I do that? Because he cheated on me. Because my mom and dad split. Because my best friend moved away. And yes, of course the past shapes us. And of course we are who we are because of the stories. But there's a fine line between a story being a part of who you are, and that story being your goddamn excuse for everything miserable you do.
And sometimes I am so tired of that fall back story. Because it becomes so routine that I wonder if I even give a shit about what happened, I just can't come to terms with the inconsistencies in life. I always have to have an excuse.