Sometimes I check tumblr for the simple benefits of comparison which was not always the case. My initial addiction to this site came from the comfort of relatable content. Every post in my dashboard reflected some crevasse of my emotional palate that was and still is absent in the formalities of daily life. Spending the day observing forced facial expressions that matched the wearers preferred story, this was the only place I could find proof that no one is as flawlessly held together as they attempt to seem. But something has changed. Lately I scroll through my dash and only feel a slight surge in my senses of a distant relation to the complexities of cleverly expressed emotions and mental states. For some reason I can’t figure out I don’t need or want to feel as if I am one piece of the whole. I want to own my emotions, give them their respective place in my life, and not restrict them into the four corners of GIFs and Photos. In all honesty, I find it more meaningful to reach the same comfort tumblr used to provide me by actually approaching people, getting to know them, and watching as the trained muscles in their bodies relax to reveal the truth behind them. I have seen this mean more to a person than 10,000+ notes affirming that we are all riding the same wave. At times it makes me sad scrolling on here because I see all this venting and no solutions. The truth is written all over tumblr’s 158.8 million blogs, but I wonder if even three people that we all come across actually know how we feel. The point is I’m glad tumblr is no longer an outlet for intensifying what initially drew me in and it figuratively kills me to see that for some people it still is. I really don’t mind posting this, because if my years here have proved anything it’s that I’m more irrelevant here than I could ever be in real life and for old time’s sake, I’m not the only one. The tumblr famous do it, the concerned blogger does it, you do it, I do it; we all scroll past each other, taking what we want from posts and reblogs and moving on. 200 something followers, I personally know about 5 in real life, had meaningful conversations with approximately 10-15, school girl crushes on maybe 100 (can’t deny that so many of you are so damn attractive), and wondered why I follow close to all you at some point or another. Those numbers don’t move me one way or the other. Life can hardly be chronicled through borrowed thoughts and pictures stamped in cyberspace that only cover a slight portion of the emotion that truly affects a person. The intent is kind, but the result is regressive. There is so much feeding of detrimental things on social networks in general that sometimes overshadows the good parts of it. There was a time when word of mouth popularized the opinions and creative works that floated through the mainstream, but now ignorance and defects of the like can find their crowd in a second all over the globe (google gay is wrong if you want an example.) I’m just over it really. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize that I was feeding the little nuances and helping them become monsters, when I could’ve let it take its ride until it wore off on its own. A tiny tendency can be controlled, a built up reaction has a life of its own; I had let so many things marinate inside me for so long, always giving it attention with quick remarks and subconscious slips that before I knew it I had let it get so big that it now possessed me and would only release me once it sensed enough irreparable destruction had followed in its wake. Tell someone, tell a wall, give it life in the wind that will carry it away from you, not the text box that will seal it behind promiscuous glass, like a piece in a museum that is carefully watched over to ensure that it will never change. Needless to say there is a lot I will always appreciate about social networks in general, but unfortunately negativity has a way of making you ignore the positives.
And with that said, goodbye tumblr.
(Insomnia will not be the same without your late night posts.)
And solitude has been staring at me for so long now that I’ve begun to think of it as my partner. The problem here is feeling; over my exes and no interest in sight, there is something in this that makes me feel like I’m not human. I’ve pondered over my past relationships and realized that no matter how badly they ended and which emotional roller coaster I chose to ride, it is still preferable to watching all your romantic energy sit still in a corner. My past partners took me through all the spectrums of emotions and you know what, I felt alive because a receptor beyond my physical senses were being reached. I have to say that pain made me feel more alive than any of the others. Joyful and pleasurable emotions only make you aware of how life can feel, but pain shows you how fragile it all is, how special, and how worthy of protection your life is. I crave the thing that I have no say in. School is up to me, money is up to me, friendships are up to me; I have some level of control over all of my life except love. It’s so involuntary, so inconvenient, and has such bad timing, but I want it, even if it means having my heart broken. I’m picky, not because I think I’m hot shit, but because I’m conscious of my own flaws and I want someone who won’t make them my downfall. I mold myself to fit into the life of whoever I have my eyes on, I do it without noticing. I used to call it adapting, but what it’s really called is setting yourself up for disaster. I can mold the surface all I want and I’ll still be the same person inside. It’s bizarre because I’m so young, I shouldn’t be putting this pressure on myself, yet I feel age coming so quickly. I’ve always concerned myself with the accuracy of memories, engraving dates and sequences into my brain like cave drawings. So I can think of a moment in my life and deduct that it was five years ago; five years out of 21 since I passed that single event in my life. I’m young now, but I’m so aware that some impending day I won’t be. Then there’s the aspect of validation. Self-flattering can only take me so far, I can compliment every corner of my body and personality, however, I still need someone else to regurgitate those compliments to me. I mean I love myself, but no one seems to love me, which leads me to believe that loving myself is somehow erroneous. I need someone to prove that I’m not the only one head over heels with myself. These are selfish thoughts, but this isn’t about being moral. This is about having this empty slot in my life that I desperately want to fill, yet no one seems to want it or be good enough. The constant state of our generation: she likes me, but I don’t like her and vice versa. In my opinion, because I don’t have the ego to speak for all of us, we have become consumed with options. We have falsely convinced ourselves that if this person seems good enough there must be someone better. We like options, but we still have that inherent human tendency to possession; not sure if I want you so I’ll keep you around while I look around. We thrive on being on top, the one who did the hurting, the one who didn’t put their emotions on the table to be risked in the prospect of love that we have now turned into a game. It’s all a game and we play it with mixed signals and masks. Don’t admit to anything, it’s a wonder we even manage to obtain one relationship in our lives. Forever is no longer expected, we enter these involvements with the overwhelming thought that this could fall apart at any second. So we tell each other little white lies with I will love you forever, while at the same time we are creating a predestination. Going into something believing it to be temporary leads us to lack effort. We know the distinction between the romantic comedy and real life, some people will die alone and now we panic because who the hell wants to spend their life alone. What have we done to ourselves? We don’t want to end up alone, yet we turn the process of conquest into a silly game of back and forth. Yes, divorce exists and people do it all the time. I don’t use it to keep myself from commitment. If anything it’s the best card in the deck. I’m some years in and a marriage license after and one of us realizes that the foundation is no longer as strong as it used to be, I’m not stuck in this commitment. We separate and continue to look for the one we will build a stronger foundation with, and some of us will have to do it more than twice. Of course there are exceptions, some of us will give up, close our eyes, and embrace solitude and that’s as okay as relentlessly wanting it. I found myself on the brink of embracing solitude and the closer I got, the wronger it began to feel. Instead I’m giving up on the games and I’m sure this kind of directness will send some running for the hills, but that’s how I’ll filter out the weak ones. Weak, we think we are protecting ourselves by putting up these walls and talking in circles, what we’re really doing is building a prison. So I will say exactly how I feel, with no reservations and wait. Yes, feelings make me vulnerable and in a more stubborn time in my life I abhorred this. It used to be easy for me to be enough for myself when my life consisted of constant controls; home, school, home, school. There is nothing too unpredictable here. My life is changing faster than I ever thought, so I think back to a time when having someone gave me all the security I needed and then I remember how wrong they all were, but how their traces still hold some vitality. I accept that I have to go through several wrong people and I have no problem taking that pain and making it useful, but the end goal is to find one person who is right, even if she only lasts as that for a few years. All these empty connections, those are what really bother me. Everyone seems to come with the false promise of durability and thankfully I can finally see through those. I take crossed paths for what they are and place more emphasis on those that life keeps putting in my face. And I’ve officially lost control of this rant. Bye.
Not the wisest
Not the dumbest
Ohh and I like cheesecake
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