why don’t you be the writer?
I’d rather pretend that I’ll still be there at the end, only its too hard to ask, won’t you try to help me?
Monotony. Its probably is one of my favourite words. Its safe, yet eloquent. It means on going, repetition to the point that it begins to get boring. But who needs excitement? Who needs the unknown? Why can’t the thrill of life be found in joy riding, or bungy jumping, why must the spice of life be found simply in the not knowing?
I dislike the emptiness of the future. Sure it has potential to be moulded into what ever for or shape fate decides. But it is also full of risks, of wrong decisions, of mistakes, of heart break, of tears…
I don’t think I’ll be very good at romance. I like the idea on paper but I don’t live in the moment enough to make it count, to make it real. I’d much prefer to watch it from the side lines, from the cinema screen, when you know the ending will be perfect and full of smiles.
I love to commit. I love the certainty of it. The finality, that once you make an agreement you feel an obligation to stick to it. Its a two way acknowledgement though, which requires to some degree, trust. This is something I struggle with on a day to day basis. Its a combination of my paranoia and the fact that I never let people in. Its not something I’m likely to grow out of, I just don’t deal well with being let down, so I never let anyone get close enough to me to truly hurt me.
I just wish someone could come and tell me that at the end of the day it will be all right.
