” Experience, paint the outlines of my soul.
Faith, fill me with the essence of who I am meant to be.
Morals, be defined; be consistent and yet be molded by experience.
Love, fill me with compassion so that I could empathize with things I cannot grasp.
Time, allow me to understand my existence as you flow within the depths of my being.
And Reality.. Reality.. Please.. Please be good to me.”
I want a guy and he doesn’t want me.
So, I live on my unrequited love in my heart and in my head where he’s physique is upgraded, his characteristics is flawless and the sex is always fucking mind blowing.
We lived happily ever after.
Misery is this friend you wanna cradle when things get incredibly monotonic and bland. It’s that comfortable feeling that offers you a drink when it’s obvious your efforts is going nowhere. And you sink into it too much, more than you really should. It ironically give you some sort of weird happiness. Like that tingling feeling you get from dark humor.
Misery gives you this validation of your ‘so-so’ state. You could tell off achievers or incredibly hot & beautiful people to kiss your ass because you are lucidly satisfied with Misery’s company. This lazy, slow paced, bleak & ‘i don’t know what to do’ thing is kinda OK to you. You’re OK.. You’re kinda OK.
Misery’s with you so.. Why not? You’re good.
When you come of age, Reality introduces you to this bitch called Experience. She’ll cradle you into her traumatizing tough love and cynicism. The only thing you’re left to do is just, process it. Process her.
So, you’d either take it as it is or resent.
It’s your decision. Either way, you can’t escape her.
I think his out there. And it all depends on us if we’ve decided to make it our life’s mission to meet halfway. We never know, one of us might be happily settled and contented with how our life turned out.
Or.. one of us might think that the other one is not good enough to meet his/her standards.
Well in that case? Ppppfffffftttttt… your lost.
If the two of you have a deep connection that you seldom experience from anybody else, then, it doesn’t necessarily mean you should fuck each other. At times, you maybe fucking your only genuine best friend. And you ruined it by misreading any kind of love you encounter.