No Subject
There's something going on. I'm never truly happy. What is happiness to me? Everyone says all you need is love, but that's not cutting it for me. When my lover plays Rockband in the other room and all I can think of are the victims of Rwanda and poverty. All I can think about is starting my real life instead of waiting year by year, diploma by degree to start what the world thinks is my real life. My real life isn't behind a desk or a paycheck. It's not behind reputation. It's behind my happiness. I haven't found my happiness, thus I haven't found my real life.
My neighbor died today. My best friend's father died a few weeks ago. My other best friend's father died a year ago. My Godmother died a year ago. My mother died three months ago. To me they were people, to others they were statistics and autopsies. To most they were nonexistent. How does one cope with such a change? One day you're talking to them on the phone. The next second you realize you'll never get to see their smile or hear their voice say "I love you." You'll never get that one last hug you beg and plead for in the middle of the night.
Instead you're stuck listening to your boyfriend playing Rockband in the other room. And it sickens me to no end.
Sorry if this is depressing some of you, but it's helping me a little to rant somewhere other than in my head. It helps to see my thoughts pixelated or down on paper.
That's all for now.
My neighbor died today. My best friend's father died a few weeks ago. My other best friend's father died a year ago. My Godmother died a year ago. My mother died three months ago. To me they were people, to others they were statistics and autopsies. To most they were nonexistent. How does one cope with such a change? One day you're talking to them on the phone. The next second you realize you'll never get to see their smile or hear their voice say "I love you." You'll never get that one last hug you beg and plead for in the middle of the night.
Instead you're stuck listening to your boyfriend playing Rockband in the other room. And it sickens me to no end.
Sorry if this is depressing some of you, but it's helping me a little to rant somewhere other than in my head. It helps to see my thoughts pixelated or down on paper.
That's all for now.