Oh wo/man, I was digging my mind last few days trying to connect my thoughts into something coherent to write down, but yolo, gonna do it freestyle now. There is one song that always wakes me up when I hear it, no matter how I feel and what I do. It is called “More”. It got me inspired to write something about more.
Some people get by
With a little understanding
Some people get by
With a whole lot more
I do not know
Why you gotta be so undemanding
One thing I know
I want more
I know my mind is always hungry for new conclusions, discoveries, and processing. Sometimes draining as fuck, makes me want to shut down everything for a while, but naaah… it keeps rolling. I actually like this “never-stopping machine”, knowing that this life, and everything related to it, has its weight and, knowing that, it’s not tasteless to live. I always want to know more and deeper and sense all everything that comes on my way. Curiosity is large enough that I don’t mind eating both cakes and shit. Sometimes I don’t understand people who don’t want to mess around with meanings, but on the other hand, it’s much easier to breathe, and maybe the amount of unpleasant feelings gets so numbed that they reach the point of irrelevance… nah, I don’t support that. I’m not here just to exist.
And I need all the love I can get
And I need all the love that I can’t get to
Oh, the love… that compound emotion which was, for me, sometimes hard even to pronounce it out loud. Filled with convictions that little me is not deserving to receive more than sarcasm from hurt and scared beings called emotionally close people. It makes me down when I think how little I took from life in the past. It makes me down how I was holding myself shut to avoid pain and mockery to my spontaneity. It makes me down when I think how many times I sold myself for a bit of love and false acceptance.
Instead of avoiding mentioned pain, I got grasped by my grief which was telling me that I was living for others. Giving myself to them as a perfect tool for their weaknesses. Trying to feed myself with breadcrumbs, I could only feel the hunger of my solitude. No matter who was next to me, it was a need for someone, and that someone was me. Inner little me was neglected, believing that she is not good enough to be fed. Outer me was looking for other’s petty notice. Outer me was a perfect whore for the compensation “I’m gonna be your perfection, gonna fulfill all your desires, and you’ll give me a bit of blood clot from your numbed heart”.
D’you get scared to feel so much?
To let somebody touch you?
So hot, so cold, so far so out of control
Hard to come by, and harder to hold
Like I said, it’s easier to shut and numb yourself and go into survival mode, instead of living. Myself already felt how is to wear that fake shield. In one way, it’s so hot to feel the frustration, and in another, so cold to be empty. The cure is to mock at the stuff that you want, and in my case, that was the pure feeling of love. There are so many “badasses” among us playing to be untouchable, but the bigger “badass” s/he is, the stronger fear, loneliness and vulnerability s/he holds. The larger mockery, the larger hunger.
There are parts of me that don’t get nervous
Not the parts that shake
You won’t get what you deserve
You are what you take
The more I know how much I can give to myself, without running after others, the less nervousness I hold. I’m not here to fulfill other’s needs because they want me to. I’m here to give what I can because I want to give to the ones that I find worthy. Someone might call that selfishness, but that can be perceived as an echo of a frustrated fool still being a undemanding victim. Oops, that’s my perception. 😀
You receive as much as you think you deserve. Do a little mindset makeover if needed, and you’ll see what you will attract. Breadcrumbs might turn into the bread (or the opposite if you want). Since I give myself more, I want more, I get more. If I’m physically alone, I’m not alone. And I don’t feel like compensating. It would just hurt my balls.
Learning to cry for fun and profit
I’m not done yet
And materialistic stuff… another way to compensate for inner fulfillment. Not so sweet when there is no effect trying to feed the emptiness.
Anyways, gonna shorten the story, before I switch five different subjects for one post. 😀 I love digging my thoughts, emotions, feelings, life, existence… I hold a large rock of sadness in my chest, and I know that it partially comes from selling and betraying myself to be that perfection for everybody else. I still got work to do to heal. And I still have words to spread to your minds. I’m not done yet.