It's not always rainbow and butterflies

My optimism annoys me, really. Why do I have this much positivism in me? It’s tiresome to fight for this and that when I perfectly knew from the start that it won’t work yet here I am, putting too much effort, fighting til the end of a pre-determined loss. All because of my positivity shit.

I’m lucky, I know. However, I’m cursed with this overflowing optimism and though they say that it is a gift, for me kind of no, it isn’t. It’s where most of my pains come from.

Yet Another Mad Woman's Post

Move on. Let go. Just but words that when mentioned, give most people that gloomy fucked-up feeling. Maybe it’s because most of us, given this age, have been knocked down by love even once or for heaven knows how many.


Move on. Let go. A mainstay on the to-do list of each and everyone who had their hearts broken. When those will be crossed out is the hardest part of the conundrum.


Move on. Let go. Most of the time, they’re the basic sentences giving the very structure of a friend’s sympathy speech right after the crash and as the days, nights, months advance, it turns into a seemingly repititive and never-ending sermon because they think you still haven’t learned a thing (when in fact you’re perfectly aware but you just feel tired of everything that had happened so you just go on with the flow).


Move on. Let go. People use it so often that made me appreciate it lesser now than before. It led me thinking that maybe there are no such things, and instead only people who’ve had their hearts in bandaids being accustomed to the situation: of being unattached, of feeling numb. Maybe they are made to raise our hopes up that we can still go back to the way we were, to the way our old selves were. Are people that irreversible?


I don’t know if I can proudly cross those two things in my list already. What I’m sure of is that I’m okay, be it because either I’m accustomed to this situation or I’ve really moved on and let go. But as what I’ve told you earlier in this post, I am having second thoughts on their existence. So that leaves me to the other side of the coin. And I think as of the moment, being okay is what really matters.


Maybe the answer to this predicament is for me to erase “move on” and “let go” in my to-do list and replace it with “be okay” and “buy cotton candy” instead. Watcha think? :-)

Drowning

They say insensitivity is bad but that didn’t stop me from choosing it than to feed my emotions and add weight to my baggages. And come to think of it, being insensitive, at some point prevents you from being lured into the idea that there could be something. It somehow pulls you out of the vast sea of assumptions; it draws a line between that sea and the shore of the known, though thin (but hey at least there’s a line). It’s kind of an “easy way out”. However, there are times, just like now that I wish I had been a paper spilled on with huge blotches of sensitivity. I wish my neurons had allow myself to feel it all so much even though it might hurt. I wish I was sensitive enough to know that there really is nothing, so as not for the agony be prolonged. I would’ve get up quickly. I would’ve been covered with less mud. I would’ve been able to walk away readily. I would’ve..