You’re so pretty I wanna cry.
But I won’t.
(I’ve already cried my fucking eyes dry because of you)
So I just found out my ex has moved in together with - I assume - her new… boyfriend.
Also, the girl I’d lost my heart to seems to have embarked on yet another online - or not, but what does it matter now? - relationship.
I think I’m ready to throw a big-ass party, cuz THIS IS THE BEST FUCKING DAY EVER!
T’es quelqu’un sympathique, mais ça s’arrête là.
So I just found out I’ve been left bereft of sadness, or any other kind of feeling, for that matter.
I CAN’T FEEL A FUCKING THING ANYMORE.
So for the past few days since this whole “getting-reacquainted-with-my-innermost-self” phase started, I seem to have entered a whole new - although not too far from the old - dual system, That is to say, as I used to go about it back in the day, “roses for my friends, hemlock for my enemies”. No shades of gray there.
And you know what? It kinda works out for the best.
A part of you knew this was going to happen. Growing up, you just had this feeling that you wouldn’t transition well to adult life, that you’d fall right through the cracks. And look at you now. La di da, it’s happening.
Your mother, your father, your grandparents: they all look at you like you’re some prized jewel and they tell you over and over again just how lucky you are to be young and have your whole life ahead of you. “Getting old ain’t for sissies,” your father tells you wearily.
You wish they’d stop saying these things to you because all it does is fill you with guilt and panic. All it does is remind you of how much you’re not taking advantage of your youth.
You want to kiss all kinds of different people, you want to wake up in a stranger’s bed maybe once or twice just to see if it feels good to feel nothing, you want to have a group of friends that feels like a tribe, a bonafide family. You want to go from one place to the next constantly and have your weekends feel like one long epic day. You want to dance to stupid music in your stupid room and have a nice job that doesn’t get in the way of living your life too much. You want to be less scared, less anxious, and more willing. Because if you’re closed off now, you can only imagine what you’ll be like later.
Every day you vow to change some aspect of your life and every day you fail. At this point, you’re starting to question your own power as a human being. As of right now, your fears have you beat. They’re the ones that are holding your twenties hostage.
Stop thinking that everyone is having more sex than you, that everyone has more friends than you, that everyone out is having more fun than you. Not because it’s not true (it might be!) but because that kind of thinking leaves you frozen. You’ve already spent enough time feeling like you’re stuck, like you’re watching your life fall through you like a fast dissolve and you’re unable to hold on to anything.
I don’t know if you ever get better. I don’t know if a person can just wake up one day and decide to be an active participant in their life. I’d like to think so. I’d like to think that people get better each and every day but that’s not really true. People get worse and it’s their stories that end up getting forgotten because we can’t stand an unhappy ending. The sick have to get better. Our normalcy depends upon it.
You have to value yourself. You have to want great things for your life. This sort of shit doesn’t happen overnight but it can and will happen if you want it.
Do you want it bad enough? Does the fear of being filled with regret in your thirties trump your fear of living today?
We shall see."
THERE’S LITERALLY NEVER BEEN A BETTER TIME FOR ME TO BUMP INTO THIS.
DAMN, THAT’S A SHIT-TON OF SINGLE PEOPLE!
Recién llego de ver la final en Parque Centenario. No haré comentarios al respecto. El motivo de este breve post es el siguiente: hacia el final del encuentro - antes de que Götze anotara - no pude evitar fruncir el ceño al escuchar a un puñado de imbéciles - sí, es la única expresión que cabe, pues eso son - gritar “A ESTOS NAZIS LE TENEMOS QUE GANAR”.
Really? ¿Con lo rica que es la lengua castellana se les ocurre elegir el vocablo “nazi” para referirse al equipo alemán? Uno comprende los nervios, la bronca, hasta la frustración - aunque reitero: seguíamos 0 a 0 para entonces -, pero ¿hacía falta emitir semejante improperio? Empecemos a tomar las cosas más seriamente, chicos.
Ahora sí, vayamos al grano:
1) Felicidades, Alemania.
2) (Y más importante aún): GRACIAS, MUCHACHOS. SEGUNDOS PERO CON GLORIA.