Thank you for your honnesty you cold hearted bitch, now you can get out of my sight and Fuck Off

Its all better now. As time goes by it bothers me less and less. It comes and goes more quickly, and i'm less affected in the aftermath. Somehow it reminds me of Harry Potter, some sick twisted ironic joke there. I wanted to post a comment in john's blog. but it got canceled so i'll just put it here.

I wanted to say something along the lines of yeah life is shit. Hopefully one day it'll get better. I know you cant see that happening now. After how much things have changed in the last 2 years. How we went from wide eyed optismistic, to that something else best not mentioned. But 2 years ago I could never have imagined going through something like this. It is possible for things to swing up in the positive. But i'm sure you already knew that. Sometimes i ask myself whats the point. Being happy only beacuse you're going to be sad later. But i know better now, some questions are best left unasked, as much as i am the cat curiousity killed. Questions that are designed to uncover the truth should be left alone or kept to yourself at best. Nobody really wants to understand them, answer them, or look them in the eye. But i stray, because you're one of the few people who actually dont mind taking that good cold hard stare at the truth. Looking it down and saying "Oh! So thats how Fucked Up it really is." Does the pain really remind us of the values of life? is it just a vacant reminder of the happiness we once had? Or do we just like the pain, because we cant get used to the happiness. Sometimes i wonder what really matters, and i am reminded of those monologues from Closer.

Sometimes we embrace things with a mild childlike curiousity, our hand extended out. Our fingers ready to grab what is in front of us. Our brain not yet filled with the knowledge that fire burns. Some of us learn to be cautious, we learn that some things are bad. Some of us learn to be cynical, and never reach out for anything. And then there are some of us that are curious, we want to find out if fire burns if we touch it a second time.

This is who we are. And i've learnt to love and accept that. The pain is a part of it. And i've done that thing that i said i would do all those years ago. I've made a part of me for all the pain and the hurt. And i think its as important as the other parts of me. And right this very second, i feel oddly at ease. There are alot of things that are different but its not something that really bothers me.

Possibilities

I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love's concerned, nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms' fairy tales to the newspapers' front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven't mentioned here
to many things I've also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being.

By Wislawa Szymborska
From "Nothing Twice", 1997
Translated by S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh