I Want A Remote For My B-Day.
What is nobility, even, anyway. When you break it all down. Even the ones you would hold as sacred will have their moments of faltering, will have their weaknesses, their moments of poor decision making and ignominy. We are only human.
I remember when we were in Southern Ohio and my breath would quicken when he was around, clinging ever tightly to my tough-guy façade I would attempt to speak to him despite my constant feeling that the words exiting my mouth were sophomoric at best and Lilliputian at worst. O these miniscule failures! And now he’s getting married, and though the teenage angst of October has subsided there is still sensation enough to call into question my situation, to call into question my logic, to call into question simply everything. Lately I exist almost entirely in a world inside my head. Fear grapples at my throat. The woman I was last June scoffs at the woman I am today. She must be appeased.
Patience is what I ask for. I don’t know what the catalyst will be. I have not forgotten the oath to myself, the affirmation that my decision was the right one, and the strength that led me to it. I will get there, eventually; it seems that I care more for the feelings of others than I do for my own. And though occasionally the price is my levity I would not change the way that I am. I know that in the end I choose strength. A thousand diversions in the road, and I will always choose strength.
PS, who else thinks that The Fall is Camus' jocular finger pointing at existentialism?
I remember when we were in Southern Ohio and my breath would quicken when he was around, clinging ever tightly to my tough-guy façade I would attempt to speak to him despite my constant feeling that the words exiting my mouth were sophomoric at best and Lilliputian at worst. O these miniscule failures! And now he’s getting married, and though the teenage angst of October has subsided there is still sensation enough to call into question my situation, to call into question my logic, to call into question simply everything. Lately I exist almost entirely in a world inside my head. Fear grapples at my throat. The woman I was last June scoffs at the woman I am today. She must be appeased.
Patience is what I ask for. I don’t know what the catalyst will be. I have not forgotten the oath to myself, the affirmation that my decision was the right one, and the strength that led me to it. I will get there, eventually; it seems that I care more for the feelings of others than I do for my own. And though occasionally the price is my levity I would not change the way that I am. I know that in the end I choose strength. A thousand diversions in the road, and I will always choose strength.
PS, who else thinks that The Fall is Camus' jocular finger pointing at existentialism?
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