quequeufaço, quequeufaço
Autor: Lorem Ipsum | Publicado: 2014-01-13T01:02:00-08:00


Because there isn't a better time to think about your future than at 5 o'clock in the morning.

Set goals, make your to-do list, enumerate what's keeping you from doing them. Turn that paper into a ball the size of your fist, throw it away, and go to sleep.



That's what it feels like, anyway.



It's no good. One cannot sort one's life by making mad lists through the first light of morning.




I hear the birds and the goats outside and I hate it, because it means that once again, I stayed awake till the crack of dawn. I would propose to myself to stay awake so I could get my biological clock right, but I know I won't do this. It's Monday and I have nowhere to go and no one to see.




Not that I care that much.



That's not really what bothers me.



I've been trying to cry for the last two months or so, and only managed once -- but I was having PMS, so I don't know if it counts. Anything could set me off during that time. No, I haven't actually been able to cry. I tried just a while ago, taking a shower. It didn't work.



I think about the things I'm not doing and I just groan, but never a tear.



For the past year and a half I had forgotten my own rule: never compromise. Because if you do, things are expected of you. People will ask you, "where is it", and you'll only let them down. There's no point in compromising when you know you're going to back track halfway through it. I had forgotten it. Now there are plenty of people disappointed with me.



How could I forget it?



Never compromise; it's simple, yet elaborate. It's a way of life. It's a way of staying alive.



How could I ever forget it?



Of course, in the long run, that's one huge problem. Not compromising means no romantic relationship, no pets (failed here too), no careers (only jobs), nothing that set people and things ablaze.



But that's what I've been doing for the past year and a half.



Setting people ablaze with expectations and hopes that I do not share with them. How painful it is, how utterly painful it is. It turns me to shreds as well, because I too grow disappointed with myself, and that's not really healthy. No good can come from all of this.



I should be trying to sleep now, instead I'm typing. Because I forgot that too. I forgot my other rule: it doesn't matter what time it is: if you feel like writing, do it.



And I forgot that too.



I keep forgetting things, important things, while my mind is filled with duties passed on to me. It's not that I don't care. It's just that it's not my passion. I wish I could help in other ways -- I try to help in other ways, but I guess that my strategies of change are far too small and meaningless... But I do mean it. When I write about how important that tree is, it's not only about the tree. When I write about poor Gabriela's yellow window turned into a massive building, it's not only about a window... How can I be wrong? How can I be wrong to try and change people's minds (little people's minds) through stories? More importantly: why can't I do it properly?



Why am I always alone.



Ah.



But we know that, don't we? Yes, we do.



We're alone because we want to be. Because I don't talk. I never do, to anyone. If they ask, I say I'm alright. I'm always alright... and nobody knows it's Time Lord code. But I can't blame them, can I? How could I? It's not like they're supposed to know what I'm feeling without me telling them. It's not their fault at all, it's my own.



I've grown into a bitter, impatient woman.



I didn't expect that.



My little self would fear to grow into a sensitive person, and she would be so damn proud to see me right now. Bitter, impatient and so dismissive of other people's dramas. Ah, she would be proud -- she never thought she would be able to become this woman, but, oh, how she longed for her!



And here I am, like a wish that came true.



Only it isn't any fun.



Sometimes I wonder if I am too surly with people. Am I? Too surly? I think I am, because I've grown so tired of hearing other people's little dramas, when the solution to their problems is so fucking simple. I grow impatient and I say something crude, honestly wanting to help, but so very tired of the whining and the crying... I've got plenty of dramas myself and nobody sees me moaning about. Just suck it up and carry on, whining won't get you anywhere -- specially if you ignore what everyone tells you and just curls up with your own misery and feeds the monster. Why do people keep doing that? Why do everyone does that? And why is it always expected of me to comfort them and tell them how right they are to feel like that and how everything is going to be alright?



Goddamn it, it won't&nbsp;be alright, but if you're going to fret about it, don't even bother to uncurl from your little misery monster. Because the path ahead has a lot of other blows and kicks waiting for you, you just have to suck it up and go on. All those kicks though won't eliminate the other stuff -- the good stuff. People keep missing the point, it's not about not making mistakes or feeling pain again, it's about feeling all of it and enjoying the in-betweens, the good stuff.



I think I've lost someone to my harsh manners recently.



I'm such an insensitive twat when it comes to other people's dramas. I'm so utterly blind, even when I think I'm doing the right thing -- especially&nbsp;when I think I'm doing the right thing.



And sometimes, just sometimes, and very rarely, I wonder... maybe it's me? Maybe I'm the one that's doing it wrong? Maybe it's not about sucking it up and carrying on, maybe it's about crying your eyes out and telling everyone how miserable you feel so others with comfort you and tell you how right you are to feel how you're feeling, how none of that is your fault, and how everything is going to be rainbows and candy canes afterwards...



No. That's not what this is about. This is about letting out the pain that you can't keep to yourself. It's about asking for help. There's nothing more legitimate than asking for help. Yet, I fail to understand it. Why&nbsp;are you so miserable? Why can't you see it's just a passing sorrow? Why&nbsp;can't you just move on, this is over now, it's just another story?



Will I ever understand?



My father died, and I'm not sulking in the corners wondering how miserable my life is and how I won't be able to do anything else in my life. Why would a bad break up do worse damage than death? Will do people keep putting all their hopes for their&nbsp;lives in other people's lives?



Sorry.



That's not what this entry is about (though now, I guess, it is).



This was supposed to be about what I'm going to do next, because for a long time now I've just been postponing decisions, and I can't keep doing that for much longer.