(no subject)
Time is never on our side.
Time is always on our side.
Time is a concept that I cannot grasp.
It's been a strange past few weeks. The introduction of alcohol back into my life has caused a numerous amount of the same problems it has in the past and a large amount of new ones that I'd prefer to never discuss. I'm almost wondering why I let a penis be the reason both of those things regaining my time, effort and money. A penis is never worth self-deprecation but it always seems to be the main cause of mine.
Everything is a matter of what you convince yourself, I'm sure of it.
I used to think that convincing oneself of positive realities was complete and utter bullshit. It seemed hard to believe that if I wanted to feel healthy and happy, I could perpetually talk myself into into thinking that I was. I suppose that theory was amazingly hard when the neurotransmitters of my brain's electrical inner-workings were completely shot and no amount of self-therapuetic bull shit I could have told myself would make them start fire again.
But lately, the mundane to and from of day-to-day life has been the best solution to any ailment I've had so far. I don't know whether my general morale has increased, my quality of life has or something clicked, but I've spent more days in the month of April calm, a word I've never been able to describe myself.
I was working today, and the little kids in my class were taking a nap. I'm not sure whether it's the approach of my father's death or the fact I am nearing to my birthday and time of seperation from my parents, but every thing that even touches on the subject of distance, despair or loss sparks a tiny fire in my stomach and I'm spouting tears everywhere. I heard this stupid song my sister used to listen to when she was a little girl. It's a song this father wrote to his daughter when she grew up. The lyrics killed me and I had to pretend to occupy myself with a task out of the sight of my co-workers because I could not stop them from coming.
I thought, my father will not see me get married, or graduate college.
I hope that f I ever get the joy and opportunity to raise a child I teach them to value their parents fully, or anyone for that matter, because when everything is said and done, all I remember of those I've lost are the moments in which we felt love.
Time is always on our side.
Time is a concept that I cannot grasp.
It's been a strange past few weeks. The introduction of alcohol back into my life has caused a numerous amount of the same problems it has in the past and a large amount of new ones that I'd prefer to never discuss. I'm almost wondering why I let a penis be the reason both of those things regaining my time, effort and money. A penis is never worth self-deprecation but it always seems to be the main cause of mine.
Everything is a matter of what you convince yourself, I'm sure of it.
I used to think that convincing oneself of positive realities was complete and utter bullshit. It seemed hard to believe that if I wanted to feel healthy and happy, I could perpetually talk myself into into thinking that I was. I suppose that theory was amazingly hard when the neurotransmitters of my brain's electrical inner-workings were completely shot and no amount of self-therapuetic bull shit I could have told myself would make them start fire again.
But lately, the mundane to and from of day-to-day life has been the best solution to any ailment I've had so far. I don't know whether my general morale has increased, my quality of life has or something clicked, but I've spent more days in the month of April calm, a word I've never been able to describe myself.
I was working today, and the little kids in my class were taking a nap. I'm not sure whether it's the approach of my father's death or the fact I am nearing to my birthday and time of seperation from my parents, but every thing that even touches on the subject of distance, despair or loss sparks a tiny fire in my stomach and I'm spouting tears everywhere. I heard this stupid song my sister used to listen to when she was a little girl. It's a song this father wrote to his daughter when she grew up. The lyrics killed me and I had to pretend to occupy myself with a task out of the sight of my co-workers because I could not stop them from coming.
I thought, my father will not see me get married, or graduate college.
I hope that f I ever get the joy and opportunity to raise a child I teach them to value their parents fully, or anyone for that matter, because when everything is said and done, all I remember of those I've lost are the moments in which we felt love.