Wednesday, May 20, 2015


when our conversation turns from nonsense to complaining, i rant.
my sister complains of how she knows what her life should be, so why shouldn't she make it happen?
and i tell her to get over it. to get over herself. because life is not always as we think it should be.
life is not in our control.
i would love to have a full bank account and a plane ticket to Paris,
but do i? no.
i would love to have a boyfriend that called me up every day to say i love you
but do i? no. 
i would love to have a farm with a cute little house filled with kids and love and barn animals dancing all around,
but do i? NO. 
i would love to have absolutely no worries, to have friends that understood the deepest darkest recesses of my mind and feelings, to have LIVED, to know what i'm supposed to do and be and create,
but DO I? NO.
sometimes you just have to GET OVER YOURSELF and just LEAVE LIFE BE. it's not perfect. it never will be, so just -
she tells me.
close thine mouth. do not deem yourself worthy to speak to me while i lounge here, sleep, and try not to kill you in my anger.
surprisingly, i do shut up.
as i think upon my harsh words, i wonder if i perhaps need to take my own advice.
i recognize my fantasy world of dreams and wishes, worries and fears,
the tension that surrounds every little thing.
the projection of feelings: that i am inadequate
that everyone is disappointed in me
and my life
and my choices,
that i am a failure.
i think that yes, my life could be better.
but it could also be worse.
wishes are not tangible.
they are whispers,
becoming useless at the first tinge of dampness.
am i worrying about my life?
so much that i'm missing it.
i don't take it back, i say. 
i needed to hear that for myself - not say it to you.
but that's how it came out.
taking your own advice?
i think i need to.

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