Sometimes I get this really big urge to write. When I was a little girl, I wanted to become a writer. I’ve always been fascinated with creating stories. There’s something magical about the ability of expressing yourself through writing. When my thoughts become something others can read as well, it gives me the same feeling as if somebody’s staring into my eyes; terrifying, uncomfortable yet mesmerizing. Writing has always been one of my passions. It comes naturally with my character. I’m an extrovert. I’ve never been scared to talk about my feelings, thoughts and personal experiences – hence the blogging thing and such. I’m so open and brutally honest towards people. I do this to such an extent, I think it will become the end of me someday.
I like to think if people can see how sincere I am, they will understand me and never use that against me. So naive, I know. When it comes to this aspect of my personality, I feel like I’m getting better at it; better in making better mistakes. I acknowledge the fact that being a brutally honest extrovert is a part of me that could possibly backstab me in the future. I’m aware of it. I try to minimize it in some ways. But I’m still too strong-minded to change myself due to some assholes and bad experiences. I rather get hurt than comform, or something like that. It’s ironic tho: so many people can read what I think, yet I have no idea what they think, or, if they even read this for that matter. It’s like a one way street. You can read my thoughts (well, only the parts I show of course), yet you don’t have to share any of yours. I don’t know, it keeps me fascinated, even after all these years.
I’ve realised life is somewhat of a vicious circle. And a very hard one to break through. I have a love-hate relationship with this time of year. Although the year is almost finished and the end of the struggle is near, there’s usually so much stress and feels going on at the same time. I catch myself looking back at my life and realising how far I’ve come – or not. This past year was a very weird year for me. I’ve experienced being on my own again, after being used to having someone on my side since I was 15. It definitely came with a lot of ups and very weird, hurtful and shocking downs. Although I’m glad I choose this path for myself and I don’t regret it for a bit, human wouldn’t be humankind if we didn’t miss the things we didn’t have. So I guess that’s happening to me too (especially because I’m a melancholic motherfucker). My old wounds have healed, but new ones replaced their spots. Luckily there’s comfort in knowing everything will be better in time. That’s the biggest advice I can give myself or any other person for that matter. I know I will never go back to the girl I was. I also refuse to live my life the way I did before. But I miss it, oddly enough, too. Don’t take this the wrong way: I’m happy, I’m fortunate and I’m blessed. I’ve learned so much and I don’t regret anything I did. But sometimes it’s hard to not look back and think ‘what if I could go back in time? What if I could avoid making that same mistake again? What if I knew then, what I know now?’. What if, what if, what if. It’s a waste of time. And time is the most precious gift we have in our lives. And I will not waste any of it anymore on people that don’t deserve it. I’m done with that shit.
Like always, I have no idea where I’m going with this story or what the point of telling you this is for that matter. Still, I would love to know what you think. Doesn’t even have to be about the cryptic stuff I wrote in this blogpost, just tell me what’s on your mind. Maybe, you need to write some stuff down as well.
WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND?
P.S. My skin has been so good lately, I don’t even have to wear foundation anymore. Haven’t seen myself with freckles in years, lol.