You have this little believes, those things that you say you would never do, and things you would always do. It's all bullshit. You come to realize that after a while, you're just thrash like the rest of humanity.
All you deserve is hate and self-loathing.
Bad things happen everywhere, in everyone's life. You're no different.
You're not special.
You're just another one, another guy that used to say that would be something good. Another guy who fucked up.
In the end you smell the same as the rest of them.
You wish you could not write this, you wish you didn't have to be an emo guy screaming because life is not fair.
But it is fair.
You do it here, you pay for it here.
It's no big deal. It's not different. This is just another story. You're just past.
You were never anything but talk, so what's the big deal? You can keep talking. What do you have left? 50 years? 60 tops. Talk all you want.
You exercise, you don't drink or smoke. This will come in handy, it's nice to have this much time to torture yourself.
God, what am I writing?
It's not like anything will change. You will still be here, just another cry baby.
You're just back where you belong. You came out, saw that there's something nice out there, but you belong somewhere else.
You belong where there's disappointment and anger.
And it's alright I guess. You can just enjoy the memories of something great you threw away.
And enjoy the despair that it will bring everyday, to try and get somewhere, knowing that there's no place to go or stay, that there's no higher ground to reach, no dream to fulfill.
That's it. You can feel the wind. The ground is getting bigger.
You can already sense the days linger on, as you do the same shit over and over again.
And do you know the best part of it? You made it all by yourself. You believed so hard that you could be someone better, and that the things you said were true, just to come back to the bottom.
You brought it all upon yourself. Enjoy it. Try to be nice and live with it properly.
This vision of yourself right now disgust me. You're being a pussy...
"You're not special.
ResponderExcluirYou're just another one, another guy that used to say that would be something good."
"You believed so hard that you could be someone better, and that the things you said were true, just to come back to the bottom."
O problema não é querer ser algo diferente, é achar que isso simplsmente vai cair em seu colo sem que faça nada. O problema não e ter sonhos - por mais altos -, é ter pretensão. E ser um "cry baby" sem ter esfolado nem ao menos a ponta dos dedos tentando cruzar os primeiros dez metros do caminho.
O problema é sermos tão... humanos.
Disgusting.