“Since our childhood, we have carried fatal wounds disguised as fatal flaws.”
It’s funny, I read somewhere that you should never let someone make you feel like you’re hard to love.
But that’s how almost everyone who I give a shit about in my life, make it out to seem. In their eyes, I am a piece of shit. They have told me this cleverly disguised as advice, or caring concern. When honestly, if they could pick the easy way out, they would choose not to love me, but everyone is under the illusion that they have obligations to each other, when honestly, we rarely if ever owe anyone shit. And even if we do owe someone something, the only force behind that obligation is our own moral standards.
Nothing in life is obligatory, not even love.
So is that even real love? Love only felt because of obligation? Love only felt because we have the most basic of human connections. Love only felt because of duty?
I don’t want it.
If you feel as if you’re under obligation to love me, then just don’t. I will gladly remove myself from your life, and honestly, I will barely feel a shred of loss.
Cause I am a piece of shit.
And unlike everyone else in my life, I at least admit to it.
As a matter of fact, there are parts of me that are messy, sloppy, unhinged, eccentric, and bratty. But I love that part of me as much as any other part. I know without it, my character would be devoid of the shading that brings a picture to life.
And now I am going to apologize for my ring of recent blogs, I feel as if they have been kind of dark. I haven’t read through them yet, but I’ve just been in a melancholy mood so I feel as if my writing reflected it. Or maybe not. If so don’t pay attention to this last paragraph.
-high ramblings of a stoner