I’ve Been Cutting Again

Closed_Caption_by_stellaheartClosed Caption by Stellaheart

In the most figurative of senses. Eventually and inevitably I let go of everyone. But it’s not so much a slow parting of ways as a sharp and sudden CUT. I get random bursts of sentiment which I direct (whether warranted or unwarranted) towards others that ends everything. Many times my family has been on the receiving end of my caprices; lucky for me my family loves me unconditionally and they would never part with me nor I them (no matter how difficult the situation). But more often, on the receiving end are friends who have absolutely no obligation to me whatsoever. And in fact, hold fast and steady to that by not taking any crap from me, which I applaud and respect. Though it does mean that one by one I lose friends and make new ones to replace them. Only a very limited few have “taken me back” – including my family and very few friends. I’m not one for mending relationships particularly. Friendships, I feel, should be the most natural of things. If there is any work involved in maintaining a friendship, I drop it like it’s hot. I lose interest. I’m too apathetic to work for a hangout session or push for a closer relationship. Throughout life I have been blessed by people that just happen to like me… where the friendship does become the most natural thing. Though sometimes I worry if they too will eventually just become another one of my cuts. I worry.

Luckily, I can still count all the cuts on my two hands. And when I say “cut” I honestly don’t mean faded friendships. I mean people I’ve bluntly and straightforwardly argued with irreparably and made it clear, “No, I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

I laughed just now because there is one person I “warned” prior to becoming their friend that I would most likely not be their friend after some time because it’s just what I do. (What kind of mood was I in to tell someone something like that, and what could possibly go through a person’s mind when they hear something like that and yet still proceed forward?!) Anyway, the laugh is bittersweet. Am I so ridiculous? And you know what, I did. I did cut them from my life. And it’s a decision I regret so fully I still feel the emotional repercussions, but in this one case, it was for the best. I’m sorry.

I’ve written too much. I’m so much more logical with every passing day.

So take this razor sign your name across my wrists
So everyone will know who left me like this
Sew me up my scars run deep
A reminder not to forget the times that we’ve had.

– A Synonym For Acquiesce, Bayside

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You can see that life’s for us to talk about.

winter_memorie_by_valyeszterWinter Memorie by Valyeszter

What is the difference between the person that loves to share absolutely every moment of their life and the person that absolutely refuses to provide any details pertaining to the moments in their life?

I can’t say that most people will fall into either category, but it’s likely that you lean in one direction. Like most everything in my life, I have a tendency to fall smack dab in one extreme or another. And in a sense I fall into both extremes of the question I pose.

Confessionals:

  • I antagonize everyone.
  • Without meaning to, I am always defensive.
  • Emotions feel more meaningful to me when they are private, and secret. The moment you share, it is no longer your emotion but a distribution of emotions in a vast expansive world. (I mean, have you ever told someone how happy you were for X and they can’t seem to understand your extreme sentiment over such a small instance?) An emotion means more to you than to anyone else.

Silence expresses so much more than noise.

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A Moving Picture

rain

This is difficult.

Words came so easily to me before. I’m known for my words. But words require thought.

I lack thought. I’m full of apathy.

It’s taken a while to realize, but I never mind being alone except when I mind being alone. Everything feels better in my own time, at my own pace, of my own volition. Except it sometimes gets boring; that’s my only qualm.

So I proceed with trepidation.

The fewer words I use, the more I mean.

(In no way does this conflict with my newfound inner peace. Mere observations.)

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