|I'm not trying to make things worse, but you're thinking in reverse...
||[Apr. 10th, 2005|04:58 pm]
Hollywood makes it all look so easy, makes it seem like all you have to do is follow your heart and all will work out in the end. I have a hard enough time figuring out what I want to eat, much less figuring out whether impulses I have are brought on by actual wants and desires or if they're simply caused by a chemical imbalance brought on by a family history of depression. I don't really believe that, the bit about blaming my wants and desires on depression and a family history of hormone-induced mood swings. My dad's family is all screwed up, but none of them are legitimately screwed up due to some physical impairment, they simply have decades worth of abandonment issues that they'll never come to terms with. I suspect that it's hard to find someone these days who doesn't suffer from abandonment issues of some sort, an unseen product of the industrial revolution and the constant call of war. Chalking it all up to a chemical imbalance is a cop out reserved for those moments of desperation when you can't own up to making your own mistakes, or in this case to justify myself whenever I can't reconcile my emotions.
Sometimes being obvious is my last resource to exhaust...
Love is a fighting word that we don't know how to use. We slap each other in the face with it, as if all action is excusable as long as we namedrop the L word. I did it for love. You're the one I love. I only hurt you because I love you. Love will keep us together. Love is all that matters. Isn't love enough? Don't you love me? We used to love each other once. All we need is love. Blah dee blah dee dah. In the end, they're all whispers in the wind, pleas that, whether silent or screamed from the heavens, will be barely a memory to the one we utter them to. There'll be that rare occasion where you'll drop that bomb on someone where both of you will remember it, forever scarred from that battle of emotion. I carry a lifetime worth of scars on my burdened shoulders, reminders of good times and bad.
One part of me just wants to tell you everything
One part just needs the quiet
And if I’m lonely here, I’m lonely here