You Can't Have Your Cake and Eat it Too!
That quote never clicked with me, because I was always inspired to do the impossible. I always felt like I could do just what I wanted.
If you know me at all (meh ... I don't wanna talk about it), you've probably heard me say, "cause I do what I want."
True, in a sense, but not anymore. That was a level of false reality I no longer see as okay. It's not fair to the people I called friends. Yes, I feel trapped, and it's my fault, so sucks to be me, I suppose.
The friends? Love 'em. And I want to keep 'em. But the pseudolifestyle (can I combine those words? pssh, I just did) I want to drop. It's time I stopped making excuses for myself. It's time I stopped relying on others to give me a quick fix, and it's definitely time to either eat my cake or wrap that bitch with saran and "marvel" at it.
And it's a hard decision. Like looking at a door that screams to be opened, but one being afraid of the contents, so he would settle. But even so ... what good is cake that is put up on a pedastol and cannot be enjoyed? It's the same with life, I suppose. I have to decide whether I want to devour my environment and bask in the vast array of truth, pain, love and all that other stuff associated with it, ... or I can wrap it, and watch it wilt, hoping and praying that when I take a bite later, it will still hold as much flavor. But you and I both know ...
it won't.
I think I'm going to confess to a Catholic priest. I'm not sure what exactly that will do for me, but they seem nice, and I have nothing left to do, and a good long prattle about corruption and lies ought to give them a reason to say "Liberate Domine, O Pie Jesu".
If you know me at all (meh ... I don't wanna talk about it), you've probably heard me say, "cause I do what I want."
True, in a sense, but not anymore. That was a level of false reality I no longer see as okay. It's not fair to the people I called friends. Yes, I feel trapped, and it's my fault, so sucks to be me, I suppose.
The friends? Love 'em. And I want to keep 'em. But the pseudolifestyle (can I combine those words? pssh, I just did) I want to drop. It's time I stopped making excuses for myself. It's time I stopped relying on others to give me a quick fix, and it's definitely time to either eat my cake or wrap that bitch with saran and "marvel" at it.
And it's a hard decision. Like looking at a door that screams to be opened, but one being afraid of the contents, so he would settle. But even so ... what good is cake that is put up on a pedastol and cannot be enjoyed? It's the same with life, I suppose. I have to decide whether I want to devour my environment and bask in the vast array of truth, pain, love and all that other stuff associated with it, ... or I can wrap it, and watch it wilt, hoping and praying that when I take a bite later, it will still hold as much flavor. But you and I both know ...
it won't.
I think I'm going to confess to a Catholic priest. I'm not sure what exactly that will do for me, but they seem nice, and I have nothing left to do, and a good long prattle about corruption and lies ought to give them a reason to say "Liberate Domine, O Pie Jesu".