Patience can be a weakness or it can be a strength. People will use it against you. People will always for the most part, use your good traits against you. Example, say if you have a kind heart- people will bruise it. If you seem to be the kind to help others, they will take advantage. What good comes from being bad? I wish I was tough, but then if I was I wouldn’t be who I am. And who I am, well I don’t know if it is good or bad. My heart is too big, and I should break away some pieces so it shrinks and contains all that matters. What exactly matters? Well, you can only find that in your heart. So maybe I’d be defeating the object if I did something like that.
You give parts of you away. Sometimes you give them to the wrong ones, sometimes you give them to the good ones. Maybe you only learn your lesson when it is too late. You can go back in time in your head which causes you to break your own heart. Then what do you do? You simply owe it to yourself to not mourn the things you had no control over. We all seek some form of control. It can be in good things, it can be in bad things. Do not judge them. Never judge. We’re all different but we all fight to stay alive. Sometimes it can be such a drag, but it’s alright. It’s quite alright.
As I get older, I don’t mind it. I don’t mind it at all. Sure my body feels bruised and broken at times (I think 80 minutes on the treadmill today may be a vital part in this) and my head feels like it may explode from frustration- but if I let it all matter, then I won’t know what to do. You’ve got hide sometimes. The panic attacks may increase over here, but I’ll get out.
So why long for something that just isn’t there? Is it even there? That’s why I love old old old music you know? It is like THEIR frustrations and their love and their lust and all in-between was written in a much deeper tone. It went beyond all that is around now. I mean sure I love the bands I listen to that are new, of course. I love the euphoric journey they send me on. But there is something about hearing something from the 60s about losing something/someone that just sound much more vulnerable than anything around now. I admire anyone who writes so honestly that they are pretty much letting every raw feeling out. Maybe that’s why I write like I do. The things I write here are the things I say to nobody. Why would I? I have no need to. I don’t wish to. I’m too stubborn, but I use it for the good rather than bad. For the most part. I’ll always believe I was born at the wrong time, always. However, I’m not going to dress like a hippie, spin around a few times and hug everyone. No no. I’ll stick to what I wear and listen to what I like.
I have no idea why I wrote any of this, maybe I had to let it out. So to the one person who may happen to read this. I’m sorry, here are some songs to make up for my idiotic ramblings that are far too frequent yet scattered.