"Someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure."
Richard Siken's words. Not mine. Damn him.
Lately, I find that I'm just a tad bit wary of my self-destructive ways potentially coming back as a result of all these changes that came about in close succession. I'm a little too excited about exploring, that I might become headstrong, careless... impulsive. Is that really bad, though? Can I just not give a shit for once and understand how that's going to affect me?
Obviously, that I'm thinking about this means I'm not really going to be as free-spirited in my self-discovery as I would wish I had the luxury to be. I am, after all, all of 27 years and boat loads of experience, advice, words of caution, doubts and fears.
Is "living the dream" really the vicious cycle that everyone says it is, where I will hate myself and regret just because I threw caution to the wind and tried to experience things beyond my little glass bubble world?
I don't imagine I'd make the same mistakes in the past. I mean, before I did thing out of spite. Now, I'm just doing things for me. I think I'm a little smarter. Wiser. Able to discern when things have gone too far.
There are all these people that have cautioned me about my tendency to go full speed on the wrong direction. I wonder, if I really do have that tendency, and if I really am that emotionally stupid that I can't tell I'm being an idiot before it's too late.
Is it so wrong for me to do something "bad" and not feel necessarily bad about it? If I understand why I did it, and I know the consequences, and I know my limits, and I didn't hurt anyone. Just once, be able to define good and bad based on me and not some invisible ruler that I've been carrying around in my lunchbox since pre-school.
I'm not talking about criminal activity here. I'm just talking about...
Taking an impulse-driven mini-break to my favorite city, and not checking my email the entire time.
Making conversation with a beautiful stranger over coffee in the middle of the day when I'm supposed to be at work.
Calling in sick in the morning, because I lost sleep reading a really good book and needed to get some shut eye to function.
Having a glass of wine with an old friend, even if I did have a crush on him eons ago.
Buying a plane ticket less than two weeks ahead of time, to spend a weekend in Miami, or New York or Paris, and be with a friend I haven't seen in days/months/years.
Dancing with complete strangers and giving them the wrong name and the wrong phone number at the end of the night.
Spending way too much money on a pair of shoes or a dress, because it feels good to be a girl.
Kissing an old flame's friend at the end of a long night of partying, just because the friend is cute and it's really just a kiss. (And then not telling old flame...)
Flying across the country to spend the night at a friend's house, so we can drink expensive bottles of wine that we've been saving for a special occasion, even if there's really no special occasion.
Buying jewelry or a purse or a pair of sunglassed I don't need.
Harmlessly flirting with old friends, new friends and guys I know who like me... even if I don't necessarily like them back that way or it's too complicated if it goes further.
Spending 3 hours on a long distance phone call to my best friend who lives in another continent and a completely different timezone.
Eating a box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts by myself while watching erotic european movies.
Reading trashy tabloids on the plane, and ripping out pages from Vogue.
Getting my hair done and my nails done and a massage at a spa.
Taking a road trip by myself, to some place I've never been.
Buying $300 jeans just so I can say I have one.
Hiring a personal trainer, so I can look good in a bathing suit that I am probably not going to wear for another two months.
Sending out all my laundry so I don't have to do it myself.
Getting a maid or two for the weekend to clean the entire house.
Adopting a dog... or a bunny.
Buying art. Real art. Not art from IKEA. Not a reproduction. Art... with expensive frames.
Driving too fast with the windows down and my radio obnoxiously blasting reggaeton at 7am on my morning commute.
It's all indulgent and stupid and mindless, but I've always wanted to do all this without feeling guilty. I just need to stop feeling guilty about things I'm only contemplating, because then I never get to do anything and when I do, it's already ruined before I've even taken the first step. I just want to enjoy the little things, and be able to say for once in my life... "I did that. And it felt good." It doesn't have to be such a circus.
I just want to feel okay to want the things I want and to go after them. If I hurt myself, then fine, at least I know. I'd rather know. We're always going to get hurt somehow. I'd rather be hurt because I took a risk, rather than hurt because I didn't.
Lately, I find that I'm just a tad bit wary of my self-destructive ways potentially coming back as a result of all these changes that came about in close succession. I'm a little too excited about exploring, that I might become headstrong, careless... impulsive. Is that really bad, though? Can I just not give a shit for once and understand how that's going to affect me?
Obviously, that I'm thinking about this means I'm not really going to be as free-spirited in my self-discovery as I would wish I had the luxury to be. I am, after all, all of 27 years and boat loads of experience, advice, words of caution, doubts and fears.
Is "living the dream" really the vicious cycle that everyone says it is, where I will hate myself and regret just because I threw caution to the wind and tried to experience things beyond my little glass bubble world?
I don't imagine I'd make the same mistakes in the past. I mean, before I did thing out of spite. Now, I'm just doing things for me. I think I'm a little smarter. Wiser. Able to discern when things have gone too far.
There are all these people that have cautioned me about my tendency to go full speed on the wrong direction. I wonder, if I really do have that tendency, and if I really am that emotionally stupid that I can't tell I'm being an idiot before it's too late.
Is it so wrong for me to do something "bad" and not feel necessarily bad about it? If I understand why I did it, and I know the consequences, and I know my limits, and I didn't hurt anyone. Just once, be able to define good and bad based on me and not some invisible ruler that I've been carrying around in my lunchbox since pre-school.
I'm not talking about criminal activity here. I'm just talking about...
Taking an impulse-driven mini-break to my favorite city, and not checking my email the entire time.
Making conversation with a beautiful stranger over coffee in the middle of the day when I'm supposed to be at work.
Calling in sick in the morning, because I lost sleep reading a really good book and needed to get some shut eye to function.
Having a glass of wine with an old friend, even if I did have a crush on him eons ago.
Buying a plane ticket less than two weeks ahead of time, to spend a weekend in Miami, or New York or Paris, and be with a friend I haven't seen in days/months/years.
Dancing with complete strangers and giving them the wrong name and the wrong phone number at the end of the night.
Spending way too much money on a pair of shoes or a dress, because it feels good to be a girl.
Kissing an old flame's friend at the end of a long night of partying, just because the friend is cute and it's really just a kiss. (And then not telling old flame...)
Flying across the country to spend the night at a friend's house, so we can drink expensive bottles of wine that we've been saving for a special occasion, even if there's really no special occasion.
Buying jewelry or a purse or a pair of sunglassed I don't need.
Harmlessly flirting with old friends, new friends and guys I know who like me... even if I don't necessarily like them back that way or it's too complicated if it goes further.
Spending 3 hours on a long distance phone call to my best friend who lives in another continent and a completely different timezone.
Eating a box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts by myself while watching erotic european movies.
Reading trashy tabloids on the plane, and ripping out pages from Vogue.
Getting my hair done and my nails done and a massage at a spa.
Taking a road trip by myself, to some place I've never been.
Buying $300 jeans just so I can say I have one.
Hiring a personal trainer, so I can look good in a bathing suit that I am probably not going to wear for another two months.
Sending out all my laundry so I don't have to do it myself.
Getting a maid or two for the weekend to clean the entire house.
Adopting a dog... or a bunny.
Buying art. Real art. Not art from IKEA. Not a reproduction. Art... with expensive frames.
Driving too fast with the windows down and my radio obnoxiously blasting reggaeton at 7am on my morning commute.
It's all indulgent and stupid and mindless, but I've always wanted to do all this without feeling guilty. I just need to stop feeling guilty about things I'm only contemplating, because then I never get to do anything and when I do, it's already ruined before I've even taken the first step. I just want to enjoy the little things, and be able to say for once in my life... "I did that. And it felt good." It doesn't have to be such a circus.
I just want to feel okay to want the things I want and to go after them. If I hurt myself, then fine, at least I know. I'd rather know. We're always going to get hurt somehow. I'd rather be hurt because I took a risk, rather than hurt because I didn't.