There are so many happy things to write, but I suppose it is the absolutely shitty feeling actually compel a person to write.
"What happened?" "Life happened" or "'Me, happened", I was trying to be witty in my head. But those responses are not that far from truth, I think. They are just more...precise, cutting through all the (unnecessary) attachments (or, are they themselves the excuse?).
People do not really learn from history, I feel, especially these days. Or maybe human just learn very slowly? I know I do not; I mean learn anything from my own past. I do not think I have a serious tendency of self-destruction, yet I kept doing all these shitty things to myself...knowing the edge of the cliff is there, but unable to stop myself getting closer to it. What am I doing? Trying to see how much I need to push myself over the top? Wow.
I always feel that no one can truly save someone else and I detest the idea of hero and thinking that it is just a Messiah complex, which human holds onto in this larger-than-self universe. However, maybe deeply in my mind, I am the one who holds the dearest belief that someone will come and save me. I know all my vices. Well, at least most of them. But so what? What happen after you know?
I see the easy solution to get out of all these stupid things I am, or going to, do to myself. Honestly, it never leave my mind. The funny thing is that I do not feel worse whenever I think about it. Because it is the worst.
What is holding me back then? Umm, the fact of being alive (?) Trying to be 'all wise' again!
But seriously, why do I care? That is what is going to happen when your reach the end. It is just that it can come sooner. Also, you do not even 'experience' the trauma yourself, because you are simply not there anymore. So really, why care?
I can anticipate all the bullshit people are going to say, so why bother to listen? (Or I am simply afraid to hear the opposing ideas?) I admit it is a cowardly act. But really, I never wanted to do it to become a hero. I always want to live in a bubble dream, that is just the way to do it. Reality is difficult (and it is always so) and I am just not very good at dealing with it.
I moan, I hate, yet I continue to screw myself up relentlessly. How nice of me (!)
I borrow the title from Cage the Elephant's song:
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