A Trite or Obvious Remark

It’s funny when you see clichés happen.

I was driving up the road near my house yesterday afternoon, and I saw a couple of ladies standing on the corner of the street. They had their arms folded and they were deep in conversation, pointing over fences and gossiping away.
I just thought it was hilarious to actually see gossiping housewives on the street corner.

It reminded me of a scene in Edward Scissorhands where all the women from the neighbourhood were out in the street discussing Peg’s new guest. Obviously not as exaggerated as that scene, but it made me laugh all the same.

It Really Is Just As Simple

You know, I think that the secret to happiness is not necessarily using all of your energy and time and effort into finding an alternate world of perfection.
Perfection - God, every inkling of meaning behind that word makes me mad. Nobody really wants perfection. You can't possibly want a world where everything is happy go-lucky, skipping through the park, making love by the river, smiles and laughter full of perfection.
However, at the same time, nobody wants a world of constant greif and sadness, lonliness and abandonment. Of course not.
Everybody experiences love and pain at some point during their lives, but nobody get's to choose when or for how long these feelings will last.
You can't hide from these things, and by God, I wouldn't want to.
It's all these experiences and feelings, good or bad, that help you to form your version of "happiness". You learn to understand your boundries.
You think you know how far life can push you, but you'll be constantly surprised.

Happiness, when it really comes down to it, is being able to stand up and say that everything has gone to shit, but say it with a smile on your face because you know better than to think it's the end.
Happiness is being able to say that one day you'll be dead, but you'll never be dying.
Happiness is when you're finally able to see past all the imperfections.

And I'm still learning.

Smiles, because

I really wish that I had all the answers, sometimes.

But then other times, reality comes and hits me in the face, and I realise that life would be pretty damn boring if I did.

Five Years

I feel guilty that I keep forgetting today is the day, five years ago, that changed my life forever.

I suppose, to be exact, at 2am on July 24th was when the walls caved in.

I keep thinking that I'm okay with it. I'm finding it easier to laugh and enjoy life this time round, but I can't escape the feeling it leaves in my chest.
They say that you never really get over it, you just learn to live with it. You get used to it. You're able to look at the good times and smile because they happened, not cry because they're over.

It hurts me more to know that I've actually learnt to live with it.

I wish I could remember her voice.

Monkey and the Questions

Now that I’m actually happy, I kind of have this feeling like I was happier before.
It’s like the anticipation to becoming happy and getting what I want was better than actually settling down with it.

Because once you have it, then that means that you can also loose it. And perhaps the pain of letting it go early is easier than the pain of watching it slip away right before my eyes.

You see, I have this feeling like karma is out to get me all of the time.
I loved and lost, then I was blessed with a second chance. And now I feel like it’s all a set-up so that I can be knocked down harder than I knocked him.
I just always feel like I’m being taken for granted or I’m in some kind of one sided relationship where I need him and he’s just there because he can be.

And I hate the feeling of knowing that there are more important things. And that he’d rather relax and laugh with his friends and his chemicals in a dark smokey room seven days of the week. And my opinion means nothing, really.

I may be right or wrong, I suppose. I think I’m right.
I wish I were wrong.

What Difference Does It Make?

Writing is something that I think I just like the idea of.
I’m not too sure.
I get into these mindsets where I really want to write. I think that I have it all together. And I sit down and get myself organized.
I open up the screen, lay my hands on the keyboard and it’s as if everything that was running through my mind earlier; every thought, every idea is gone. Just like that.
I have some serious issues with trying to get the words out of my head and through my fingers. I have pictures and storylines racing around in my head all of the time, but sometimes, I just can’t bring anything to life.
Although, every once in a while, it’s like an explosion.
It’s like every inkling has been squeezed from my imagination and I find myself typing furiously for hours, words spilling out as if they’ve been suppressed for too long, keeping myself going on coffee and cigarettes. And I think that I have it. I think that finally I have broken through and am on my way to create something incredible.
Until, of course, I decide to read back on my work.
The high has disappeared from my system and replaced itself with a feeling of disappointment. Rocks in my stomach. I find myself reading something that reminds me of something else.
I don’t trust my own judgement.

And I Turned Away, Of Course.

I’d really like to know what’s wrong with me sometimes.I’m not really sure what happened. A few months ago, I found myself entering a phase in my life where I felt extremely carefree and happy. I felt like something had miraculously changed within me shortly after I turned eighteen. It was like I had so much to look forward to, so much I wanted to experience. So much I wanted to learn, so many things I wanted to be able to teach others.
And I guess it didn’t turn out anything like I would have liked.
I mean, I had my chance to experience some incredible things, but also I suppose, things that I never want to experience again. I guess you could say that I made some mistakes, but I really don’t believe in regret.
I continued to enjoy this carefree, exciting life I was leading but only for a short time. I loved the way it made me so happy and invincible, but ignored how lonely and empty it made me. I built up some kind of wall to block out the negative feelings that I probably would have felt if I was in any kind of normal headspace.
If I ever felt like I missed the way things used to be, I would get angry at myself. I wouldn’t dare to let myself feel hurt over the past, present or future. Maybe for fear of the hurt, and maybe because I was being selfish.

Although, as time went forward, things eventually did change.
And I suppose in many ways, things are back the way they used to be before. But again in many other ways, things are not at all like they were before.
I don’t want to regret, nor do I want anything to change. I just wish I had listened then to the voice I refused to pay attention to.