A Collection/Memoria/Excuse.

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Posts tagged with "Thoughts"

Apr 9

If I see another fucking post about how to be happy or how to follow your dreams, I’m going to safely assume that you don’t have a job, or have ever lived anywhere other than your parents.

Just wait, your dreams will die. Pessimistic as it may seem. Sadly one day you have to grow up, and that is not just moving out. It’s about the realisation that you don’t get what you want, and what you wanted to be in school isn’t what you’ll be.

Get ready to grow up.

P&L - JM

Apr 9

Convincing yourself an action you’re doing is for the best, is one of the hardest challenges you’ll face.

In Confidence.

I have been reading more. I’ve always aspired to be an intellect, not considered as one. As people behave differently when you know that you know all they’re thinking and their troupes inside and out.

But at the same time as I relearn my individuality, I worried that I would lose my caring and empathetic nature. And to a certain extent I have, but that extent is being tested as I always worry about that which I don’t ‘have’ to worry about. It isn’t my place to worry about. Alas, I cannot help it. I do worry, against my highest motor functions, I do worry.

Did I break something? Did I ruin it? Thinking about it (because what else can I do?) I probably did, but I can’t know until I hear it said or see it, and I can’t do either from fear or it forever remaining destroyed.

I’m sorry.

P&L - JM

Its been a while.

Since I last wrote. I ended the one relationship that genuinely made me happy. (if you love her let her or so ext. Ect….)

This has left me in a strange place as to where I belong in the grand spectrum of other human’s lives, I have essentially come to the conclusion that I don’t.

Once I wrote that all I touch breaks and all I hold dear crumbles before my very eyes, this is more than anything the latter of the pair. I wish I could explain my feelings, I never have been very astute in my assumptions on the human nature (though others, including myself, would tell you otherwise) so to get a genuine grip on my own well being and happiness is a most difficult task, exacerbated by the fact that all I knew is gone, and I shall not see them for the long term to foreseeable future.

Love is as perilous as I first thought though one of my favorite quotes always rings true:

” Love is for the stupidest, most foolish, luckiest people on this earth, and I envy them so.” - unknown

Cheering up has been difficult in an oasis of fake smiles and cheek kisses. Though I have found solace in my friends and others who shall remain anonymous, due to the fact that if they knew how much it helped, would begin to do the opposite immediately.

This post has no addresse, only those who wish for warning and or encouragement to love and be loved. It’s a perilous journey, and the destination is hardly ever seen, let alone made. Perhaps you will only get a glimpse of what could have been. But the journey and the unknowingly walking blindly alone along a path of near certain failure. But if you do not dare made that journey, there is not point wasting the time that you have on this earth even thinking about it.

Peace & Love - JM

Recreational destruction.

Or more aptly; self-destruction.

Yet again, a year on I manage to make the same mistakes and hurt any and every thing that I allow to come close to me.

I am a poison, a mind altering drug, of which I am immune. In that I am not fooled into loving me.

I am free of tgat burden, so I must try my hardest to help those of which my poison ensnared.

I apologize.

JM - P&L

May 1

The only taken bartender.

A few nights ago I went with a few of my fellow co-workers to roadhouse in Covent garden. Now for those of you who don’t know roadhouse I’ll summarize it in 5 words: drunk and horny girls galore.

On this particular night there were a few girls I was serving in my bar when I got there. Not traditional shoes, but if you squint, maybe.

Then I have one of them come on to me, one of the twins. I have no adquate reason as to why, but this is drunk girl logic. I tell her I have a girlfriend. This means very little to her and she proceeds to attempt to ‘seduce’ me. If you would call slut dropping then stumbling for the next 3-5 seconds appealing. Then her twin (yes, twins) begins to get in on the act, significantly more drunk than the first twin by the by. And begins forcibly taking my hand and making me dance with the pair of them.

No matter how many high fives, looks of genuine envy and rage the other males in the area were throwing me. I was entirely proud. Not because I was dancing with a pair of drunk horny twins, but I knew that I wasn’t going to do anything with either of them.

The night ended in a French something as I very Parisian like, ran away scared like a little girl. I left to the awe of my fellow work mates as they know how strong my constitution must have been to resist.

Guess this girl must be something rather special.

P&L - John

Perfection.

I never want to see perfection. 

Because when you do, you know that it is unnatural for a simple person like you.

It’s not something you can recreate necessarily. 

It could just be the moment.

In that moment, everything was right.

And you think, nothing could actually be better than this. Ever.

And then you’d realise that you’re right.

The world will fade into the background recreating the memory of that moment, however long, of perfection.

This is why I push away most girls. 

It’s because if you look hard enough, you’ll find perfection.

Which terrifies me.

So it would seem.

Perchance, we would work out. 

Perhaps, you’re the perfect girl.

Maybe, I’m perfect to you. 

Perfection is in the eyes of the beholder.

Its seems its becoming easier & easier to let go.

Things to think about:

When I see people crying about soldiers coming home from the middle east, seeing their children/unborn child/wife/husband or girlfriend/boyfriend/parents/wounded or dead. My thoughts often drift away from the moment when they meet to what they were doing before, what their actual job was and what it consisted of.

Did they kill anyone? Why did they do it? Who was he/she/they? How old were they? How many? Or perchance they seriously wounded them? How is that person now? Did they get a 10 gun salute at their funeral? 

Sadly these questions are not asked. Which makes me worry. We are 2000 years into an supposedly intelligent race. Yet we will remain sure that one life is more important than another simply because of the lottery of birth meant that one person was born into a power hungry, greedy society and one into a religiously ruled, oppressive society.

Which one of those are you born into? That, again, isn’t one of the many questions you, as a human being, should be asking.

P&L - JM