Butterflies in your stomache
Well i guess i'm back here. I've really become way too attached to this blog. Its more than an outlet, its the first time keeping a journal actually makes sense to me. I guess for the first time i agree that memory is really screwed up, and it can be changed at any given moment.
Priya doesn't like butterflies. I dont know why, but i really love butterflies, what they stand for, and the way their life revolves. I'm trying to fix, everything.
I'm not doing this for anyone, maybe Mel's right. I'm bored of this. What i'm bored of of course is feeling so dead inside. Do i want to be a fair and good person, i havent decided. But i want things to change. Hence the choice, make things better or make things worse, its probably all the same, right and wrong answers are relitavely similar, you can do the right thing everytime and end up with something contrary to what you thought would have been right for you.
You dont really have a right to tell me you're disapointed in me though. Not after all i've scarificed for you, after all i've done, and what i went through. Theres a very simple reason to why i'm like this now. Since we agreed on honnesty, i'll tell you. I dont trust you anymore. Can i ever trust you? Yes when you really want me to. But right now you dont care enough to want me to trust you.
I've come a long way in this denial, this bitter self loathing, this emptiness, this beautiful nothing. In this part of my life, I'm not trying, i'm not giving, and i'm not loving like i think is right. I'm doing my best to do everything against my better nature. I simply don't want to believe in the better nature of people, and every lie i'm told, (white, fun or otherwise doesn't really make a difference) brings me one step closer to my goal, an acute sense of cynicism. House says, everybody lies, i need to be in tune with the truth or extremely cynical, i'm not interested in truth right now, because theres no point in understanding the universe when theres no one to marvel at it with you. Hence, not just any girl will do.
People have different smiles for different things. I have a few let me tell you them now, and you can tell me if you know what they are. Smile when i'm happy, smile when i look at you and you make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, smile when i cry inside, smile when i know i'm heading into certian emotional doom but still chugging on anyway, smile when i meet somebody i want to see, smile when i meet somebody i don't want to see, smile when i hear something that resonates within me. I guess these are the basics, some of these smiles have laughs that go along as well, i used to laugh when i was unhappy, but i stopped being able to do that because i've learnt that unhappiness doesn't like being laughed at, and comes back in many malicious forms. Speaking of which, malicious behaviour is the one thing i cannot abide, i will not trip you for comic relief, nor can i abide someone who does.
Ironically the people who read my moods best are kevin and pal, tonight when i said i'm going home they said ok bye, somehow knew i didnt feel like talking. I'll be fine, though right now is just rocky for me. I'm still learning to love myself, learning to trust myself, to live with myself. I'm learning to pay attention to my mind, i'm learning to try and care a little.
Its a difficult balance, being dead and this half-life. I think every time you break your heart, you die by half, because your soul is infinite, you have lost alot and nothing, half of infinity is infinity, the infinity that you lost and the infinity that you still have are essentially similar though the loss of so much is still too much to bear. When you quarter and eighth infinity, you start to wonder if you were really all that you said you were, all it takes is belief, i guess in your self, in the truth of the cup being full, though its a little tricky because you're soul is either infinite of half of that, both of which are infinite. Agrhh hard to explain.
It was beautiful because things were so simple. Things were simple because we trusted, black to be black and white to be white. We trusted because we pretended that we've never been hurt before, and we (at least I) believed it. I was hurt like the first time, and i still remember the first time 8 years ago. I let you hurt me because i really wanted to love you, now i'm hurting myself because i really want to love you still. Things are not simple anymore because i dont believe in myself right now, i dont know right from left, I dont know real from surreal.
I do know butterflies are the dead close to your heart come to visit, and sometimes they turn up in your stomache, they flitter and stir parts of you that you've let settle, like after a heavy meal.
Priya doesn't like butterflies. I dont know why, but i really love butterflies, what they stand for, and the way their life revolves. I'm trying to fix, everything.
I'm not doing this for anyone, maybe Mel's right. I'm bored of this. What i'm bored of of course is feeling so dead inside. Do i want to be a fair and good person, i havent decided. But i want things to change. Hence the choice, make things better or make things worse, its probably all the same, right and wrong answers are relitavely similar, you can do the right thing everytime and end up with something contrary to what you thought would have been right for you.
You dont really have a right to tell me you're disapointed in me though. Not after all i've scarificed for you, after all i've done, and what i went through. Theres a very simple reason to why i'm like this now. Since we agreed on honnesty, i'll tell you. I dont trust you anymore. Can i ever trust you? Yes when you really want me to. But right now you dont care enough to want me to trust you.
I've come a long way in this denial, this bitter self loathing, this emptiness, this beautiful nothing. In this part of my life, I'm not trying, i'm not giving, and i'm not loving like i think is right. I'm doing my best to do everything against my better nature. I simply don't want to believe in the better nature of people, and every lie i'm told, (white, fun or otherwise doesn't really make a difference) brings me one step closer to my goal, an acute sense of cynicism. House says, everybody lies, i need to be in tune with the truth or extremely cynical, i'm not interested in truth right now, because theres no point in understanding the universe when theres no one to marvel at it with you. Hence, not just any girl will do.
People have different smiles for different things. I have a few let me tell you them now, and you can tell me if you know what they are. Smile when i'm happy, smile when i look at you and you make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, smile when i cry inside, smile when i know i'm heading into certian emotional doom but still chugging on anyway, smile when i meet somebody i want to see, smile when i meet somebody i don't want to see, smile when i hear something that resonates within me. I guess these are the basics, some of these smiles have laughs that go along as well, i used to laugh when i was unhappy, but i stopped being able to do that because i've learnt that unhappiness doesn't like being laughed at, and comes back in many malicious forms. Speaking of which, malicious behaviour is the one thing i cannot abide, i will not trip you for comic relief, nor can i abide someone who does.
Ironically the people who read my moods best are kevin and pal, tonight when i said i'm going home they said ok bye, somehow knew i didnt feel like talking. I'll be fine, though right now is just rocky for me. I'm still learning to love myself, learning to trust myself, to live with myself. I'm learning to pay attention to my mind, i'm learning to try and care a little.
Its a difficult balance, being dead and this half-life. I think every time you break your heart, you die by half, because your soul is infinite, you have lost alot and nothing, half of infinity is infinity, the infinity that you lost and the infinity that you still have are essentially similar though the loss of so much is still too much to bear. When you quarter and eighth infinity, you start to wonder if you were really all that you said you were, all it takes is belief, i guess in your self, in the truth of the cup being full, though its a little tricky because you're soul is either infinite of half of that, both of which are infinite. Agrhh hard to explain.
It was beautiful because things were so simple. Things were simple because we trusted, black to be black and white to be white. We trusted because we pretended that we've never been hurt before, and we (at least I) believed it. I was hurt like the first time, and i still remember the first time 8 years ago. I let you hurt me because i really wanted to love you, now i'm hurting myself because i really want to love you still. Things are not simple anymore because i dont believe in myself right now, i dont know right from left, I dont know real from surreal.
I do know butterflies are the dead close to your heart come to visit, and sometimes they turn up in your stomache, they flitter and stir parts of you that you've let settle, like after a heavy meal.
posted by Seython at 4:05 am
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