To gain the attention of a woman, try complimenting her on her thoughts and the way in which her mind speaks instead of the way she’d look so provocative embedded in your bed sheets.
The residue from the tears racing down my cheeks and the exhaustion from the deep gulps of air are becoming all too familiar now. My cries and whimpers have become a song that has been overplayed. I feel so.. not myself. But then again, I didn’t even know who myself was to begin with. Life is getting the best of me, and it’s hard to be optimistic when the world feels as if it’s imploding upon you. I can’t even pin point exactly what is wrong. I just know that I’m not happy.
I look back on my childhood with the shadow of a long and run down cynical juvenile. I can’t seem to discard the sentiment that those years may have been the best years of my life. So many things used to be accepted without the need of explanations because they never used to alter in my mind to the conformities of logic and reasoning. I can only look back now lost to time, holding feelings of nostalgia because of the bitter exposure I have been victimized to as I aged. All I see now are the harrowed shells of people shuffling through the life they have come to know.
so many things lost now ..
I’d like to believe that love is always enough. That if you truly loved someone things would find a way to work themselves out. But I’ve learned that sometimes, no matter how concentrated and impelled your attempts may be, trying to fix what’s broken won’t always have the outcome you so deeply yearn for. Because sometimes, what was so conspicuous before, can dwindle into something that’s not even there anymore. The love may still be there, but the absence of that ‘something’ can have you both tearing yourselves apart in efforts to put back the remains of what was once a relationship.
It is possible to be unhappy with someone you love. Just like it’s possible to fake being happy for the sake of trying to save what was once the best thing that’s ever happened to you. So you try, and you pretend, and you act like things are great because you still love each other and that care for them is still there. But, even so, you find that the once animated, love filled conversations have digressed into deadened emotionless ones, and with each moment missing the words that once filled every space, you finally realize that maybe.. they’re undeserving of this suffering. You realize that despite how boundless your love for them is, they deserve better than you because they deserve to be happy.
Sometimes loving someone is letting them go.
expect the worst, hope for nothing, and in that way you’ll leave no room for disappointment.
It’s the wise ones who often suffer the most because often those are the ones who are engrossed within reality. Real agony, sealed fantasy, reveal gravity because if you only knew what really happened in this world you’d realize we ain’t have reason to be high. My respect towards the wise who’s cup is still full of hope and who still find courage, even after perpetual disappointment, to be hopeful. Because I, for one, am tired of being too aware. Too evocative. Too knowing. They say ignorance is bliss, and I used to think it was bs, until I touched lips with the Devil and felt his kiss. Because upon his lips I tasted the lips of everyone who’s ever kissed him, and let me tell you, after that kiss they never dissed him, but dissed God, and never missed Him. Sometimes, I wish I was one of them.. because when the blind lead the blind, at least they’re in a peace of mind within their confined line. Why does it matter if they’re sightless? It doesn’t imply that they’re visionless, and if you have vision who are people to say you’re decisions are any less of value than theirs?
Sometimes, I wish I were oblivious. Because at times, the obvious to me, is what others perceive as intangible. And when you’re aware of how alone you really are in this world, it’s frightening. Some would say it’s enlightening so why does it feel like the sun’s out but I suddenly was struck with lightening? The worst events are the ones you don’t expect.
Have you ever thought about our purpose? If our lives are really worth it? How the definition of living is something that’s not definite, but a concept that we’ve adapted to? How if everything was meant to be, that means we were meant to find attraction in the things we’re attracted to? How if fate and predestination were truly how our lives were destined, we’re just sticks of meat existing on a wet sphere, and we’re not really here to discover anything.
We are born into this world just to get set back to dust, and everything else we’re told that challenges that reality, is just a theory.
Knowing too much can be a bad thing, because the truth is what you believe, and when the truth is that nothing matters, what’s left to believe in?
Said he wanted a shot, no chaser, cause he regretted the fact that he gave it a shot but didn’t put in the efforts to chase her.
That chick that doesn’t whore and moan cause living up to her morals is more ratifying than satisfying her hormones. That chick that would rather you explore the inner crevices of her mind than have you explore the inner crevices of her thighs because she knows sex shouldn’t be used as a prize in which guys fight to win, because they don’t even fight to win her heart, just her body. To that chick that would rather spend her time invested with her head in the books than in her looks. The one that spits knowledge, and metaphors. Wisdom, and verses, versus baby mama drama and sentences that contain curses. The chick that thinks just as natural and constant as she blinks, with the answers seen through her pupils peep hole and questions as her eye lashes, she lashes the ‘I’s’ in forms of opinions and in ink. That chick that doesn’t fuck dicks cause her words fuck with their mental, man. She’s only into gentlemen. And she’s realized she need not the gentle kiss of any man to reassure her of her value. That the mental stimulation her mind is capable of bringing forth is of value, too. To that chick that would much rather have an intellectually stimulating conversation with you, as opposed to initiating sexually satisfying relations with you. She converses with you about your aspirations, dreams, and ambitions just as much as your favorite sex positions, because she realizes in order to sustain a healthy relationship she has to able to trust you, let down her guard, see that you won’t demean her and, in fact, hold her feelings in high regard.
To that chick, that recognizes the fact that when it comes down to it, sex is easy, it’s understanding her that’s hard.
Maybe I’m too much for some people. Maybe my thoughts are more burdensome, if anything. Maybe people don’t need to fall into the depths I’ve fallen because they don’t need to possess the knowledge I do. Maybe some people are actually aware of all that I’ve come to realize, but just choose to remain in oblivion for their sanity’s sake.
Who would willingly sacrifice their world built off bliss for the things I know? Or- rather, don’t know. The more I know, the more I realize the less it is I actually do know. I’m convinced that, in life, when you seek answers you get nothing but more questions. Life isn’t set up for people that have these kind of thoughts streaming through their consciousness to ever obtain peace of mind. Knowledge is pain; and I’ve become too acquainted with that sentiment.
“I cannot describe to you the agony that these reflections inflicted upon me; I tried to dispel them, but sorrow only increased with knowledge. Increase of knowledge only discovered to me more clearly what a wretched outcast I was.” - Frankenstein Monster Words
Most are happy living in their ignorance, so what would that make me if I were to destroy everything that they define as happiness and exchange it for knowledge that will do nothing but pain them?
A monster.
she grew addicted to the pain, because that was the only thing she had left that convinced her you were real.
