It’s nice to be at a point where I don’t suffer simply by the act of existing. With my head above water, I can pursue a sense of happiness instead of constantly deciding whether it’s worth going on.
But I have to admit that the depth of my struggle is what gave me the tools to thrive now. When I was trying to survive the most difficult times, I learned that I could limit the effect of life’s inherent instabilities by being in better control of myself. Through my journey with social injustice, I learned how to empathize with people and understand their experiences. From having lost all my most fundamental emotional bonds, I learned to be a more patient friend and deeper lover.
It feels like I’ve been struggling in adolescence, and am now transitioning to the next major phase, one that will involve as much healing as growing. That means I need to practice using these tools, cause knowing how to be a better person isn’t enough by itself; time and perseverance are just as important for a person with so much damage.
There are still bad days, moments of weakness, and groundless insecurities, but they’re getting less frequent and less intense, and I have more time than I ever thought I’d have. As long as I’m on the right path, each step I take toward finding my stride will get me to where I want to go.
O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
That shall distil from these two ancient urns,
Than youthful April shall with all his showers
I lost my life as I knew it, piece by piece, over days and weeks and months. Now things will never be the same. In moments of crisis, everything has been distilled; what’s gone is gone forever, and what remains is what I will carry for the rest of my life.
And as the threads unraveled, I tore myself from the world away, my face unable to bear the burden to others.
Don’t try to make life a mathematics problem with yourself in the center and everything coming out equal.
Sometimes it feels like I’m being punished for a crime I never committed.
Rob: Sometimes it still hurts. You know how it is, man. It’s like, you wake up every day and it hurts a little bit less, and then you wake up one day and it doesn’t hurt at all. And the funny thing is, is that, this is kinda wierd, but it’s like, it’s like you almost miss that pain.
Mike: You miss the pain?
Rob: Yeah, for the same reason that you missed her… because you lived with it for so long.
I’m in my last days of high-school again. Pretty much this. Feeling like I have the rest of my life ahead of me with so much to look forward to, but only cause I’m trying to shed everything that happened in the final disastrous year.
I remember writing a lot back then in this black notebook. It was filled with all these verbal scribbles, short passages of text, words, lyrics, emotions I couldn’t contain. My thoughts were a jumble, lost somewhere between the pain and the love of how it made me feel alive.
That’s how I feel now. Old habits break hard.
About once every two years I unceremoniously threw it out and bought a new one, because I hated everything in it. I never wanted to think of myself as the person who wrote all the things in there. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll look back on these entries one day and think the same.
(+5 bonus points if you get the album reference.)
I really do have love to give! I just don’t know where to put it!
—Quiz Kid Donnie Smith, Magnolia
Okay, I’ll admit it.
I need to love. I need it, the way I need to eat.
This is the same part of me that notices the faint outlines of hearts drawn in car windows. Also, the same part that marvels about that adolescent point in life, when one would draw something so simple and insignificant because the only worry was whether or not someone liked you back.
So when I don’t have someone to love, it fucking kills me.