not finding reason for inspiration when i need it leaves me more uninspired than i was when i started realising i’m the one thats always noticing and feeling and sensing and hardly ever being noticed or sensed or felt making melancholy a state i aspire to because at least i would feel something then instead of this emotional void that defines my existence that is bereft of human attachment not for lack of wanting nor for lack of trying but simply because i lack the inspiration for another to attach because theyre looking for what im looking for and we both cant give each other what we need making the familiarity romantically tragic but infinitely depressing because i know how much the other needs what i am looking for but want to receive it first before giving it so i slip into morbidity and focus my disillusions on others believing that the purpose of my life is indeed to be an example to others so that they may realise what their life will be like if they make the mistakes that i made which is why i make my mistakes known without restraint hoping theyll appreciate the lesson behind it but only ever being judged by it instead
Tag: brain dump
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I’ve experimented with my significance before, and it’s never yielded the results I’d hoped for. I’ve walked away, or simply faded quite deliberately to see if I would be recalled, instead all it did was confirm what I thought. When I see the fragility in others, I’m automatically drawn to want to comfort them, to make them realise that they’re not worthless, nor insignificant. And I do this not because I want them to like me, but because I want them to like themselves. But it’s usually a wasted effort. It usually ends up proving that significance is not something that can be achieved, but only something that can be given. So I give significance to more people than I should, and receive it from far too few for it to have given me a balanced life, let alone an amazing one. My efforts to make others believe in themselves is either rewarded by them doing so and moving on without me, or dismissing my efforts and moving on without me. But the reciprocation always eludes me.
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Another Brain Dump…
I wish I could see myself through the eyes of others. It would save me so much energy, and spare me so much grief. Self-imposed grief because of my demented view of myself. But in the absence of affirmation to the contrary, it’s the only perception I can rely on. And I’m not about to articulate that demented view to anyone, so there’s no chance of that perception being tampered with reality, or optimism for that matter.
My desperation for a partner, a companion, a cloak for my soul never recedes. I’m distracted from it by whimsical fascinations from time to time, but there’s nothing to distract me from it when I sit alone in a crowded space smiling and interacting with others knowing that there’s no one about to lean over my shoulder to unexpectedly whisper something into my ear…something that only they know will bring a smile to my face, or make my chest constrict with excitement. No one to place an affectionately assuring hand to cup my cheek and chin from behind while sneaking a kiss on my other cheek. No one to look behind my eyes and smile a piercing smile that unsettles me, no matter how many times they smile that smile.
So I remind myself that I need to be more optimistic about life, and in the process I forget that that in itself is already optimism. My expressed need for inclusion is disproportionate to my need for inclusion, and so my independence, my aloofness, my oftentimes smug sense of portrayed confidence will protect my tormenting secrets of loneliness, which is exactly what I want, but not at all what I need. What I need is someone to want to be there doing all those things, not because I asked them, nor because I promised the same in return, but simply because, like me, they have a desire to want to give of themselves without the expectation of reciprocation, but simply to feel the appreciation it deserves.
It seems I dream more than I do. I hope more than I expect. I die more than I live.
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A Brain Dump…
I need to learn to let go gracefully. It’s getting a little easier these days, but my nature still overwhelms me so often. Not just letting go of issues or betrayal from those close to me, or those that I’ve allowed into my personal space…but letting go of that which is unlikely to yield in the face of my limited influence no matter how distasteful I may find it to be.
My naivety causes me to invite total strangers into my personal space simply out of care or concern for what they’re contending with. Of course I do this selectively, although I’m more likely to give others the benefit of the doubt than to assume the worst of them. Why do I do this? I think it’s because through some ridiculous sense of logic, I believe that there’s truth in treating others the way I wish to be treated.
If I want someone to look beyond my past, to look beyond where I’m coming from but to rather appreciate what I’ve overcome and share my vision of where I’m going to, then I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t afford others the same respect or opportunity, if nothing else. None of this is even making sense anymore.
It’s a constant struggle to find certainty in my choices or my actions. Someone told me recently that it’s called ‘mindfulness’, whereas I’ve always thought of it quite simplistically as present-moment-thinking. Maybe it’s the same thing, or maybe it’s not. The impact remains the same. I’m so focused on worrying about the potential outcomes of everything that I rarely spend enough time just absorbing what is happening here and now.
The more I remind myself that the actions of others are a reflection of who they are and not who I am, the less consoling it is. Betrayal is the ultimate middle finger. It’s the ultimate fuck-you statement. Believing in others more than they believe in themselves is a reckless way to live. But it’s the only way I know how. Maybe it’s just a sign of desperation that my soul is screaming for acceptance but has yet to taste it.
The more I reach out, the more they recoil. But as long as I’m breathing, I’ll be reaching…sometimes I wish giving up was part of my nature…