Picturesque.

i trusted you & you broke me like the rest.

  • 8th June
    2013
  • 08
  • 11th April
    2013
  • 11
  • 11th April
    2013
  • 11

I’ve been told that I’m too smart to ever be truly happy. Just like I’m fixing to analyze this thought, I over-analyze everything, and it always ends up hurting me way more than it helps.

I’ve seen movies where geniuses become so passionate over something or someone but ultimately they always fail because it’s always all or nothing.

Is being smart a handicap? In a world where people are only allowed to feel superficially, in a world where religion is based on focusing on what you don’t know, in a world where ignorance is bliss, in a world where the truth is but a passing stranger that we never truly get to know, in a world where it doesn’t matter what you know but rather who you know, one cannot be but so smart before one’s happiness is compromised.

The best part about being smart is not being able to turn it off. The worst part about being smart is the fact that the best part about being smart is also the worst.

I can never be happy if I continue to analyze every small detail of every situation. I can never be happy if I expect those around me that claim to love and care about me to empathize with my thoughts and feelings.

People are too stupid for their own good - selfish jerks.
I’m too smart for my own - what?

I’m not sorry that I’m not sorry for being smart.

I find it hard to believe that out of the thousands of available men that somewhat are my type, that there isn’t one guy that can empathize with a smart girl. We should be the easiest with which someone can empathize. We have logic for everything, we have a formula, a system in which we are very eager to share. It’s a simple process.

Love is defined in different ways by different people. The Bible is translated in different ways by different people.

“[Love is patient, love is kind. It is slow to anger. It is not prideful or boastful. It rejoices with the truth.]”

To a person on the same intellectual level as myself, this is a formula. These are instructions. You have constants, variables, an equation, an answer.

LOVE = truth × (patience + kindness - anger - pride)

This formula becomes more intricate throughout the entity of the Bible.

But I share my equation. Show me you care, I say. Don’t let me go to sleep upset, I say. Let me know you’re thinking of me, I say. Listen to me, I say. Don’t lie to me, I say. Apologize like you care that you hurt me, I say.

A long time ago, an ex got mad at me because I expected things I never asked for. So this time I asked. Funny thing is, I was closer to love when I didn’t ask. He was closer to loving me and gaining my love in return when he didn’t even know my criteria.

Maybe all I’ll ever have in life are my books. At least they don’t disappoint. At least they don’t lie. At least they don’t attempt to distort the image of love I have. At least they don’t try to break what’s left of this fragile broken heart. At least they don’t hurt me like you.

  • 10th April
    2013
  • 10
  • 9th April
    2013
  • 09
  • 7th April
    2013
  • 07
  • 7th April
    2013
  • 07
  • 6th April
    2013
  • 06
  • 4th April
    2013
  • 04
  • 3rd April
    2013
  • 03

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

I still think about you every now and then. I still listen to my old favorite songs at night because I still think about you when I hear them.

I’m ashamed of who I became, of what I did. That’s why I pushed you away. I’m ashamed of the way I treated you.

But whose to say that means anything? Why do I even admit it? What’s my point? I don’t even know…

That’s a lie. I know exactly what this is all about. With you, I had innocence - before I went and ruined it. I miss the innocence. I miss the bliss. I miss dreams and hopefulness. All that seems lost now, I would’ve held on soo much tighter had I known then what I know now.

^^What’s that even mean? Do I miss what I had? I miss who I was. I miss who you were. I miss who we were when we weren’t “we.” I miss who we were when it was just you and me.

That’s a lie. I miss laying with you, talking forever about our dreams of visiting the west coast. Or do I miss having dreams? I miss falling asleep in your lap on long drives. Or do I miss not waking up alone? I miss loving you. Or do I miss being loved in return? I miss playing monopoly all day long and being forced to eat sandwiches everyday. Or do I miss simplicity? I miss you. Or do I miss not being alone? Or do I miss being missed? Or do I miss being important to someone?

You don’t even exist anymore. Missing you is a waste of heart. Missing myself is an even bigger waste. Whose to say you could even fix anything anyway? Whose to say anything could be fixed?