on heartache

Have you ever gotten in a fight with someone so important in your life and so close to your heart that you felt a dull ache in the pit of your stomach? Or have you ever missed someone or something or some memory so badly that you could almost feel your heart swinging precariously in your body, between what was and what never will be again? Or have you listened to such a beautiful, delicately crafted song that you felt a metaphorical hand squishing your soul until you felt like you couldn't take anymore?

Because I have.

on mending hearts

There is a certain bridge that was broken that I have been thinking about trying to mend for a while now. I can list a few solid reasons why it would be a good idea to do so, but if I really think about it, I realize that it may be for selfish reasons. I always wanted to fix this bridge when I felt that everything else was completely healed, but I'm beginning to understand and reluctantly accept that everything else may never be healed in the way that I'm expecting. So is it time for me to repair that bridge?

on being mature

I've decided that I'm going to act like a grown-up from now on; no more bitterness or passive-aggressiveness, and certainly no more binge-drinking.

on the sound of breaking hearts

I imagine the sound of breaking hearts to be similar to the sound of thin, fragile ice cracking on a day you think the ice will be fine and you step on it, tentatively at first, but slowly you start thinking it can hold your weight, so you move closer to the center boldly though steadily, and right when you start feeling safe and confident and happy, you hear this noise that sends a thousand stabs of fear through your body and you don't know if you should run or stay still but the fear freezes you so it doesn't matter and in your silent stillness, you can hear that ice splintering like glass, quickly, severely, and heartbreakingly.

on good people

I know I am not a good person.

Or at least, I'm not as good as I'd like to be, because I've seen what truly good people are like and I know I don't have that kind of a heart. I'm selfish and fickle, and as much as I can recognize a pure heart and humble soul in someone else, I can't mimic that in myself. Sometimes when I see a good person, and I mean a really good person, my heart goes out to them because you know that in our cold, cruel world, they'll never receive the thanks or the good rays of karma that they deserve. They'll go unappreciated; their kind acts will go unnoticed; and they will either live a relatively thankless life oblivious to the injustices of the world (the more favorable outcome), or they will eventually become just as cynical as the rest of us.

I used to think that I was a good person, when I was less mature and more selfish; I thought it was my birthright to be blessed and lucky without having to be humble. But I'm realizing now that the most fortunate people are the ones who are blessed, lucky, and humble. I digress.

on new beginnings

There is something to be said about a fresh start. At any point in a person's life, he or she has accumulated memories of the past that would be better forgotten: a scraped knee, an argument with a friend, a bad grade, a hurtful breakup, etc. Whether small or big, they all amass into our tiny brains and give us perspective on what we want and don't want for the future. And so, a new beginning isn't really a new beginning since we'll always have those memories stored; however, I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing because we can learn from those experiences and start over with more knowledge.

I feel like I've learned a lot from high school, college, and maybe the most from the one year I was out of school. Living alone in a new place (albeit only four hours away) really gave me time and space (lots of it) to assess myself and set goals for the future. And it's felt like a long time coming, but I'm finally in Chicago, about to start classes in an entirely new setting with entirely different people. It's a little nerve-racking (nerve-wracking?) to have no idea what to expect while simultaneously knowing it will be extremely difficult and exhausting. But I'm excited. I'm excited for a fresh start with new people, and I think it's exactly what I've been needing. In the past, my immaturity has held me back from what I wanted and who I wanted to be, but I think now I'm finally ready to embrace the forthcoming imminent struggle, and kick its ass.

on consistency

If there is one attribute that I lack but would love to have, it is consistency. With schoolwork, housework, relationships, friendships, I lack the common sense to sustain and finish what I start with the same fervor, motivation, and work ethic. I experience intermittent bursts of motivation or joy in the work I'm doing, so I pursue it feverishly, only to slink into a lazy depression and work lackadaisically until my next burst of energy. My fickleness and temperament also pervades my feelings towards the past, present, and future. I spend 95% of the time feeling happy or content with who I am, what I'm doing, and where I'm going, but then 5% of the time, I plunge into an overwhelming despair about the life I'm leading, comparing it to the life I've led and the life I would like to lead. I have been told by an irreparably douchey (but fairly reliable) source - you know who you are - that I am unstable, or at least, more unstable than the aforementioned person; and that this instability may be a cause or big factor in my periodic angst. And thus, I hope and pray and wish for consistency. May I be granted consistency so I can be decently happy 100% of the time, rather than very happy 95% and miserable for 5.

Or is 95% big happiness and 5% big misery better than 100% small to medium happiness? Are the odds in my favor?