i get ripped on for making this part "Dear Diary", part pretension, so here's a little from column A and a little from column B.

i get ripped on for making this part “Dear Diary”, part pretension, so here’s a little from column A and a little from column B.

nudawn:

nedhepburn:

to be fair, i kind of knew what i was getting myself into. sort of. kind of. about as much as you can set your own sort of safety net for the inevitable, you know? and who knows what will happen. you can’t plan these things much more for the way they end as the way they begin… totally out of the blue.

i mean, i dunno. here’s my “Dear Diary” part: there’s a world between us. the one time i ever had any sort of hallucinogens (ahem) i remember seeing the world as a bunch of circles, some connected, some only touching for a short while, but all ultimately affecting eachother sheerly by proxy of existence.

right now, though, i’m grateful for it. that sort of thing - that person - that sort of tale - doesnt come around a whole lot. and who knows? it could come around again. nothing is ever quite ‘over’, just forever looping on itself somewhere, ready to be told or reopened.

it whatever it was that we shared makes for a great, great story, and for that, i’m thankful. i ain’t sad. it was awesome.

the sad part about getting your heart broken is losing your naivete. once your eyes are opened to face the harshness of how ugly this world and its inhabitants can be, you cant really go back to the notions of romanticism John Hughes ingrained into your prepubescent mind.

so what are your options? you can shut everyone out. you can play games. you can protect yourself with venom. all in a vain attempt to connect with someone while controlling every aspect of the relationship. alas, the irony is that the only way to truly connect with someone is by being honest and allowing yourself to be vulnerable.

for me at least, i cant live my life thinking every word out of everyones mouth is a lie. i cant live my life thinking everyone has ulterior motives. i dont want to exist like a transient ghost with no real connection to anything.

i’ve found that when you lose your naivete it makes room for the bitter sweet reality that although most things will end, that doesnt mean the ride isnt amazing and completely worthwhile.

so i raise my glass to you, and anyone else who has the balls to fall in love. who wants to die without any scars right? it means you LIVED.

I threaten (you know this, ND and Ned) but alas…at the end of the day, after the requisite amount of suffering, we all possess that “synaptic whiteout,” you know, the same stuff that allows women to (at least somewhat) forget the pain of childbirth and do it all again, in turn allowing life to continue on and to make other people who will LIVE as well.

I told a friend today that in a way the pain pays homage to the joy, and if it isn’t there, then you weren’t living honestly at all. I’d rather suffer the edge of 1000 razors in an alcohol bath and have truly loved with all my soul than move through life anesthetized and cold. I feel for those who live the latter. But, the whiteout kicks in eventually, and the process starts again. Maybe with it comes a bit more wisdom each time, maybe not, but you’re right…fuck, you’re living.