more than this?
my mother is insistent on giving me useful advice i will always remember too late. i am overly confident in the most ordinary things imaginable: i believe i dress well, i find myself interesting, i am convinced there will be talent there when i need it. however far these imaginary gifts may take me, it will not compare to the progress of those who have but one thing-- simple discipline. this i do not have and never had in the past-- a mistake i made long ago and one i will continue believing will never be reversed. good conversation has always been the only thing i have held in high regard, and every other proof of character has only been ignored beside this method of pretending. i am too tired, too exhausted, and much too lazy to make myself a better person. i have been spoiled by the stupidity i see in others so that i waste myself in defiance. i have grown less productive and more proud the longer i stay happy with gabriel. how awful my writing style has become, withered by self-contentment and a comfortable cushion. the things i convince myself i am brilliant for only push me further down the slope of mediocrity until i find myself, suddenly ugly, at the bottom of the hill. i vomit a little and continue down my fat path to summer days where nothing gets done and nobody knows me.
i have no motivation and no philosophy. therefore i am capable of any destruction and only minor progression. tenents are meant to be destroyed, but, having none, i can only slowly reduce myself to someone i no longer recognize. the fastidious eleven year old bella had much to think about everything and a million hypotheses to bring her closer to herself. whereas today, bloated bella believes only blasphemy. how am i to love anyone in this trite fashion, where all is up or down according to my most current mood? where are the morals that gabriel presses me to? i only answer in hopes of security, but in reality i am so confused by these concepts that i am suddenly terrified with the following questions: when was it that i began to regress, and how much damage has been done?
i am completely unwilling to work towards anything and still think that things will always work out for themselves. i stay a child protected by well-meaning adults, and although their mistakes may affect me for the worst, i am content if they are the ones to take the blame. and i will be perfectly happy to ignore all these problems as soon as i've articulated them once and without much editing. i will never make anything out of myself because i am too happy pretending something may happen one day without my effort so that i may laugh at those who did try. i have always been left alone by parents and teachers to dabble in whatever i could find interesting without constriction, and this has somehow left me impotent and greedy. however, i have always maintained that any efforts to direct me otherwise only pushed me farther to the vacant corners of my delectable ego.
these days i have nothing to say to no one that i know will not be immediately charming, therefore relieving me of any nagging questions as to the true value of my character. but there is no use in pleasing people, and there is less in pleasing myself. i do not know where to begin, or how to understand. i am prepared only to destroy without conscience and sulk daintily without depth. i am not ready for anything more than this.
i have no motivation and no philosophy. therefore i am capable of any destruction and only minor progression. tenents are meant to be destroyed, but, having none, i can only slowly reduce myself to someone i no longer recognize. the fastidious eleven year old bella had much to think about everything and a million hypotheses to bring her closer to herself. whereas today, bloated bella believes only blasphemy. how am i to love anyone in this trite fashion, where all is up or down according to my most current mood? where are the morals that gabriel presses me to? i only answer in hopes of security, but in reality i am so confused by these concepts that i am suddenly terrified with the following questions: when was it that i began to regress, and how much damage has been done?
i am completely unwilling to work towards anything and still think that things will always work out for themselves. i stay a child protected by well-meaning adults, and although their mistakes may affect me for the worst, i am content if they are the ones to take the blame. and i will be perfectly happy to ignore all these problems as soon as i've articulated them once and without much editing. i will never make anything out of myself because i am too happy pretending something may happen one day without my effort so that i may laugh at those who did try. i have always been left alone by parents and teachers to dabble in whatever i could find interesting without constriction, and this has somehow left me impotent and greedy. however, i have always maintained that any efforts to direct me otherwise only pushed me farther to the vacant corners of my delectable ego.
these days i have nothing to say to no one that i know will not be immediately charming, therefore relieving me of any nagging questions as to the true value of my character. but there is no use in pleasing people, and there is less in pleasing myself. i do not know where to begin, or how to understand. i am prepared only to destroy without conscience and sulk daintily without depth. i am not ready for anything more than this.