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The good, the bad, the ugly. The real

I think I’ve just spent the last 24 years of my life tied eyed. My vision was blurry. I had many concerns, but mostly with what “appeared”. Even my deep thoughts were digested internally as what they “appeared”.I never really focused. In the same time, I have lived, I have loved, and I focused, but I didn’t know I did.

Meanwhile,my little life happened. The life I call “little” that can be taken away from me any minute. The life I call little that has given me a family, friends, a beautiful city to live in, Marvin Gaye. I was not concerned with how my little life actually felt. I was concerned with how it appeared, to me and to others. 

I always saw things that interested me, but invested very little feeling in them. I saw talent, and I wanted talent, but I never stopped to feel and acknowledge my own. I saw love, and I wanted love, I wanted what appeared as love, but rarely have I stopped to acknowledge what feels like love to me. 

Rarely have I stopped to feel what brings me pain, satisfaction, a feeling of accomplishment, a feeling of pride. I wanted to be perfect, but rarely have I stopped to be my absolute best. Because I want to be my absolute best, but rarely have I really acknowledged my absolute worst. It didn’t look good on me so I had to make it dissaper, or dweal on it. 

It’s like I was looking through some blurry sunglasses, and I thought that’s all there is to see. I thought that I liked poems and romantic songs, but life showed me they are far from poetic, they are not what “they appear”. They are what they state. The heart really sees what is invisible to the eye, because even though from the outside your life looks good,your heart is crying, literally.

What I want, what makes me happy, what makes me miserable, these are irrepetible facts in life. There is not a formula I can merely borrow from somebody else and apply in my own life.

There is freedom only mine to feel, the freedom to love whoever I love, the freedom to watch whatever I like, the freedom to complicate my life exactly how I need to, the freedom to always look for the big picture. There are things I cannot change about me, no matter how much I try. I cannot change who I like, I cannot change who I love, I cannot change what I enjoy, I cannot change what I dislike. 

And to think that I have to live this way all my life. Do I trust myself to follow my lead? If I fall in love, do I trust myself to go where it takes me?

Do I have the courage to stop looking after what makes sense and start listening to what makes sense to me?Do I have the perseverence to make the efforts that kind of freedom requires?

My path was not already written, I write my path. And if I like to appear good so much, I need to show up more. 

Some days will be hard, because I’m half human half,lazy and overly emotional.

Some days I’ll hide, some days I ask 500 questions and find no answers. Some days I’ll be cryptic and hide.

But some days I’ll be gullible and I’ll show up. Some says I’ll ask no questions. Some days I’ll just love. Some days I’ll just struggle. But my life will be wonderful, I have no doubt about it. 

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I briefly lost access to my Tumblr account and it felt like th end of an era

There are things you love but you don’t know you love. They are so habitual, they’re almost like second nature. Like writing, like my Tumblr account.I don’t love everything I own, but I do love my own universe, my outlet of expression.

I love everything I do out of pleasure. I love eveything I love out of freedom.

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Are we the greatest, or are we mediocre? Are we lovers or are we fighters?

There are times when I feel my best, times when I feel like I can conquer the world. These are times when I fight, when I shine, when I have success. 

There are also times when I run away, pursue abstract ideas and have passiontae debates in my head. These are times when I feel that if I lift a finger, my heart will break. There are times when I can hear the call for action, but all I wanna do is switch to another tune. There are times when I feel I’ll die if I don’t act. 

There are times when people speak about a human being, like it’s a robot, born to be trained, to train his mind through meditation, train his perspective through afirmations and mold everything into what he is supposed to become and believe. Fuck.

I hate those people But then I see it in me. I see that my mind is unfocused and untrained.

It makes me scared to see how many false dilemmas I carry around with me.

And then it makes me even scarred to feel that those dilemmas remain unresolved, no matter how much I try to simplify them, or no matter how much I try to understand their depth.

It makes me scared to see that I was right in the first place. It makes me scared to see that action scares me. It makes me ANXIOUS to understand how easily I can achieve what I want, without struggles that last for years. It makes me ashamed to feel I was so blind. 

It feels weak to choose when to be vulnerable and when to hide. It feels weird to choose when to fight and when to give up. It feels weird to want something badly and never have it. 

Are we allowed to be proud now? Are we allowed to win people over? Are we allowed to hate being single? Are we allowed to admit to what we want?

Are we allowed to fight for love, to fight for power? Are we allowed to stop humbling ourselves until there is no trace of ego left? Are we allowed to suffer ?

Are we allowed to complain? Are we allowed to be tricky? Are we allowed to brag? Are we allowed to be well-mannered and a little bit fake? Are we allowed to not let it go?

Are we allowed to admit to what makes us happy?

Admiration, love, respect, success. Are we allowed to admit that we hate death, poverty, rejection and pain? Are we allowed to avoid it?Are we allowed to be angry? Are we allowed to be super-ambitous?

Are we allowed to say “I refuse”, when life throws terrible news? Are we allowed to believe our wishes will come true? Are we allowed to live in the present? Are we allowed to stop being so emotionally developed?

Are we allowed to say”fuck” to overly complex stories?

Are we allowes to say that Beauty and the Beast is not a story about vanity, but  a story about the triumph of good over evil?  Are we allowed to stop saying we’re mediocre?

Are we allowed to be proud of ourselves? Are we allowed to ask for others to match our beliefs? Are we allowed to want reciprocated love?

Are we allowed to fight for our happiness?

Are we allowed to know what we want and fight for it, even if it brings pain?

Are we allowed to think Alanis Morisette is sometimes too much?

Are we allowed to say out loud that pain is not always useful?

Are we allowed to admit that maybe we are only waiting for the good times?

Are we allowed to admit that feeling saved feels good?

Are we allowed to be fucking small? Are we allowed to want to be the best?

Are we allowed to win? Are we allowed to want happiness? Are we allowed to make up our own rules?

Are we?

Is freedom possible? 

Are we allowed to want to go and want to run away at the same time?

Are we allowed to be crazy? Are we allowed to be extraordinary?

Are we allowed to be suckers for love? Are we allowed to want other things as well?

Are we allowed to be the Tupacs, the Queen Latifah, the Marvin Gayes of our generation?

Are we allowed to sing about love and how much it humbles you? Are we allowed to be exactly who we are and to feel exactly how we feel? Are we allowed to admire Pink? Are we allowed to admire mentors?

Are we allowed to admire though, inspiration, ideas?

Are we allowed to throw away self pity we no longer need?

Are we allowed to keep parts of us we feel terrified to throw away?

Can we chose the proportions? Can we chose when to have patience and when to rush in? Can we chose our rhythm? Can we chose our values?

Is it really our choice? Does it even matter if it’s our choice?

Should we follow those choices that go beyond pure reason?

We have no choice. 

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Maybe I don’t really care about others

We are not limitless. Not all of us are special. Not all of us have ideas. Not all of us know how to make a joke. It’s very hard and painful to acknowledge that, especially if you think that you will only be loved if you’re THE BEE’S KNEES.

 I always knew I had some gifts, but my weaknesses embarassed me. I wanted to be the absolute best at everything I have ever admired. 

But now I notice that I ask that from everybody. Just because I cross paths with somebody awesome, it means that there’s a lesson for me there and I have to get ‘er done and start evolving. And just because people surround me, they have to deliver, and be inspiring and great. 

This is a fantasy of mine, because I always thrive on being better, I always thrive on ideas and knowledge, Other people have other concerns. They don’t care about my concerns, and hurt me, and I don’t care about theirs, and hurt them.

But I cannot simply start caring about something I don’t care about. And I simply cannot ignore the fact that some people say things that leave me breathless and other people bore me and leave me poor and unimpressed. Others hurt me and make me cry. 

I cannot turn boring into interesting and I cannot turn myself into something I’m not, because it will take a lot of time and a lot of effort, and I only want to do it with my heart, not driven by a pointless obsession.

Some people will never interest me. I will never interest some people. I will probably never be as divine as my grandmother is, and that’s a pity, because I’d be happy to. I will never be all the things I admire in other people, but I will be what I want and need most.

I will never be able to emphatize with everybody, nor like or love everybody.

And it feels like a huge waste of time trying to do so. I don’t even mind trying to understand other people, it’s not the thing I hate most. But it’s not something I enjoy. I do have goodness in my heart, at times, I do wish people would be happy, even without me. I do wish everybody had their share of joy. But this wishing does little for me.

What matters to me is that, every once in a while, I meet somebody who I can naturally focus on, because of the way that person speaks, thinks, feels and behaves. Caring about them comes easily. Surviving the pain they can cause me is easier. And that makes me richer. I can actually help other people, without putting myself in their shoes. Because I’m fullfilled, I have direction, I don’t need to understand it all, I just help. It just makes sense to be good, it almost seems sensible. 

Everyonce in a while, I can live in my own bubble, with somebody else, and that makes me happy, and that makes me a better person, and that makes me full.

Hating everybody is definitely a hard job, but finding interesting people is harder. Because they’re rare and you get anxious around them. And when you don’t get anxious around them, you understand how rare they are, unpleasant as it is to grasp it. Hating everybody sucks but it’s not the most hurtful thing, like the fact that love is only experienced by some of us.  

You are not always the chosen one by the circumstances. No matter how councious one’s choices are, there is still a lot of struggle, a lot of stress and worry. 

These days, people seem to make these choices very often. They choose. They hurt people. They know they hurt other people and that hurts them. And yet they go for it. That job, that girl, that boy, motherhood, career, traveling. 

When grown-ups storytell their observations, they usually bore me and wear me out. Their stories about limitations and choosing one thing over the other usually fills me with stress, because I like to let it all flow and never worry about the details. But to know what you want, to state what you want and to go after it, aware of the limitations and working your way through them, that is what I call love. That is what I call a miracle.

The other day I had a date with a guy who told me his limitations. He was honest, he was genuine and I appreciated that. Still, I found his limitations the non-exciting kind. His honesty, his openess made me appreciate him, but his limitations made me feel like I could never be interested. 

This is the kind of story I can hardly tolerate, because we are either told that we can be limitless, or that our limitations bring us beauty and authenticity.

The truth is, I didn’t like the guy. His limitations didn’t make love grow where there wasn’t any fertile ground His unwillingness to impress didn’t bring a happy ending. His authenticity did not make the date succesful. Neither of us won. 

And yes, both of us seemed unmotivated and bummed about it, so we didn’t take it as a lesson of perseverance. We were just two people hoping to find something good, something real. It wasn’t there. I was sad for days, even if I promised myself I wouldn’t be. Maybe he was sad too, maybe.

So we didn’t win, and we didn’t learn. We were not Nelson Mandela.

Or maybe I learned that I will be sad at the end of any date I go to and find something I’m not excited about. I’m programmed to be sad when things don’t happen the way I wish them to. 

That’s not motivational, that’s not attractive, that’s not even creative. Maybe people will get bored of my sadness and run away. Maybe I will be perceived poorly. Maybe I will change. Or not. 

But we are truly limited and we are picky and we make choices nevertheless

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Somos tu y yo  El uno para el otro Tu con tu locura   Y yo que ya estoy loco

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Art and passion shape me more than advice ever will

There’s a reason I worship music, clever poetry, witty conversations.

Beyond appreciating the talented and the visionary, I’m in love with how art shapes me and teaches me to value my experiences. 

I have tried for so long to be the best version of myself without even putting value on what I am living. Like it doesn’t matter. 

My admiration for extremely assertive, driven, succesful, street smart individuals has limited my creativity, my own passion, has lowered my voice. 

When I constantly live my life looking over my shoulder, to track progress, to simply look back in disbelief at my old self, I kill my own passion.

 In the end, who cares if I win? Who cares I won win If I haven’t played with passion, with conviction, guided by my own voice and reason? Who cares I won, if I have spoken the words of others and taken the actions others found appropiate?

Who cares if I earned skills I didn’t enjoy earning?

Who cares if I win the heart of people who never bothered winning mine?

Who cares if I spend all my life calculating my steps and thinking rationally, although I hate it and it drains all the energy out of me?

Who cares if I win if I never made my own mistakes? Those tears were not mine, that love was just induced, those heartbreaking failures were outnumebered by flat stories of success?

Who the fuck cares?

I do, because that’s not a passionate life.

Who cares if I listen to every advice others give me from their hearts, but I never listen to mine? Who cares if I always do the right thing, know the right theory, have all the data at my disposal, if  I’m never fullfilled?

Who cares if I’m right If I feel wrong? Who cares if everybody appreciates my maturity if I feel stranguled? Who cares if everybody feels sorrow for my own sorrow, for not having followed my path?What  if it will be too late?

 I care, because I know the taste of regret, and it sucks. I know the taste of sorrow, and it sucks. 

Who cares if some weird part of me always keeps me underwater, always feeding me with useless boring advice and life lessons?

Am I happy?.No. I’m fucking miserable.Who listens to that voice that wants me to go crazy, to live, to love? Very few people. Because very few people have known it. Because that voice is not loud, that voice is ashamed. Ashamed to ask for love, ashamed to ask for beauty, ashamed to ask for passion. That voice is also afraid, afraid that the road to passion is walking into other’s shoes. That voice is also lazy and spoiled, dreamy and romantic. But that voice is mine, that voice is me.  That voice is also anxious, and also a bit domineering. But that voice is me. That voice has led me to my passions, only I never knew. 

That voice always wants me to work, but it’s always work I’d enjoy. I always try to quit that voice, because I believe it leads me to depression. But given a good outlet, and treated with intelligence, that fucking nazi of a voice has led me to good.If I make it shut up, I lose half of me. Who cares then?

Who cares if I don’t live passionately? Nobody seems to value passion anymore, because passion is dangerous, you cannot control it.

I fall in love and risk my heart, but expect for the pain to stop when I want it.

No. People fear love and pain because you can hardly control them, that’s what our robotic advice generators don’t know. That when you fall in love, you risk your sanity, you risk your happy days. That when you follow your passion, you can hardly know where to stop. We want the love, we take the risk, but we still believe we’re in control. Drink this, do that, think this, flush the toxins, the pain is an illusion, meditate, and so on. So much naivite is endearing.

But Elton John knows better, Jessie Ware knows better, Celine Dion, Led Zeppelin, Stevie Ray Vaughan all know better. This kind of music didn’t come out of calibrating every relationship and out of rationally embracing moderation.

Nope, genuine art comes from real passion, uncontrolable passion, quiet passion, sweet pain, peaceful pain, rage.  

We want what we want but we don’t like the pain, we don’t take responsibility for it, but it consumes us anyway. And it leaves us so fucking destroyed that we never want to go after what we want again. 

But we do, against all ods, because once again, life is more powerful than us. Our passion is more powerful than our mind. Our experience is more valuable than our plans. And that’s the beauty of life.  To be small, to be big, to hide, to fight, to love, to do whatever you feel like doing. To stop.

To value whatever experience life gives us. 

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At the end of the day, life sucks but love wins

It’s very hard for me to put into words the extreme pain and the extreme joy I’m feeling, what can I say? I’ve always been ambivalent.

I have struggled for a long time with finding answers, with understanding how much do we really control, how much is destiny, how much can we influence with our minds. 

I got tired, and my dad got sick and I had to think about that. Just feeling the pain hurts. Just feeling the pain of facing sad things in life hurts a lot. So I’d obviously try to understand, to control, to prevent. To listen to other people.

Me, of all people. I’ve been trying since I can remember to be original, to be an individual, to be unique. But when faced with enourmous pain, I can barely be an original. I simply absorb opinions or reject opinions and apply them randomly hoping they will kill the pain. They never do, because they are not mine. 

Even if I write down lists, even if I try to analyze and observe my life, sometimes I fail to do what’s needed. And life gets increasingly hard, with little satisfaction.

But then again, they say, never look for happiness.

WRONG MOTHERFUCKER.

ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS LOOK FOR HAPPINESS.

BUT WHAT IS HAPPINESS? 

In my experience, happiness is, at first, having a vivid imagination. Pain and bad experiences will always limit the imagination, just like you have one shot at ONE close up and you are only allowed to use that, and you don’t like it. So you never take action.

Happiness is not always doing what you think you’ll like. In my case, extreme romantic scenarios, bold confessions of love, extreme passion. For me, hapiness is when something inside me says “hell yeah”, even if I don’t seem particularly thrilled about it. That is my heart speaking. Sadly, my heart barely ever injects my brain with what I truly need and want, because my brain is way way way too tired, and it’s stuck. Just like I’d have to watch episode one of Friends over and over again.  Enough.

Happiness is, for me, to be crazy. To allow myself to have hope, to allow myself to be free, to long for something better. To imagine.

They say you should love somebody for what is, not for its potential. But love doesn’t work like that. There were times in my life when I felt I had zero value. No potential. 0 value, 0 qualities, 0 chances to succeed. I still feel like that many times. But what makes me go own are small visions, small images that come to me, picturing my future in ways I identify with. They feel mine, even the words feel mine, although I haven’t spoken them yet. I never truly loved myself for who I was, and I probably never will. But I’m here already, to hell with it. I am the best I can get, even if I hate myself. Even if I hate that I’m not better. I am the best. And it’s true whether I like it or not.

I have tried so many times to find peace, I didn’t need peace. I have tried so many times to take care of myself, but I didn’t understand what needed to be taken care of. My feelings. I would deliberately hurts my feelings day in an day out in an attempt to take care of myself. How fucked up is that?

My heart would scream “ Give me hope Joanna” and I’d act the opposite, listening to some quote that seemed fit ,like Red’s advice in Shawshank Redemption: “ Hope is a dangerous thing, hope can drive a man insane”. 

Meanwhile, I’d eat healthy, workout, meditate and whatever. But listening to my heart? NOPE.

I’d always act against my heart because I’d be afraid it would fuck up my destiny.

And it made me miserable. I thought I was doing right, thinking right, but I was feeling like shit. I was learning, I was digginng deeper, but I wasn’t listening to my heart, and I feel like that’s the supreme act of love. Of course I had to learn respect, patience, endurance, but what for? I’d always ask myself. My heart and my passion weren’t into it. 

I’d become gloomy, sad, even depressed, because life kept passing by and bad things would happen. I began to think I was doomed, to be sad and miserable and unhappy.Everytime I’d feel good, satisfied, proud, I’d immediately run away from that feeling, because I felt that was not my reality, that was a lie.

I’d refuse to believe in love, luck, imagination, dreams, even though, that’s what makes me happy. I had forgotten my absolute truth: believing is what works for me, believing makes me happy. Even when I’m not particularly skilled, even when I’m in pain, even when I don’t succeed. Expecting nothing in return also made me happy. They all made sense for my heart. Being true to myself is what makes me happy, always, even when I’m sad. Not knowing is what makes me happy. Being powerful and driven is what makes me happy, being alive is what makes me happy. Feeling alive is what makes me happy. Even thinking makes me happy. Everything makes me happy when I listen to my heart. 

And that is not always easy to do. Healing fucks it up. Trying to evolve fucks it up. Digging deeper fucks it up. It depends.

Learning makes me happy if it’s done through admiration, through inspiration. And I want to learn to be myself, I’d have to be inspired by myself. And that would feel weird, awkward, but that would also make me happy. 

So many question I’d wanted to receive answers to, and so little happiness, so little living.

As much as I would’ve wanted for life to be in a certain way, life is what it is right now, and it’s not perfect. Love is not perfect. Nothing seems perfect. Not even imagination and inspiration are perfect. But I couldn’t stand it. Just facing it, feeling it, my heart said, STOP. I felt powerless, powerless when faced with such deep pain. And I understood that If I ever wanted to be happy, right here on planet worth, I’d have to create my own path. At the outset, life felt terrible, but I knew I had to do something with it, because the pain wouldn’t go away, not even with healing, inspiration, motivation, whatever-ation. I challenged my ego but my ego was not the problem. 

I felt I needed to feel and hear that voice who never ever questioned my value. It never even perceived me in terms of valuable or inavaluable. That voice loved me like crazy even when I didn’t love myself. 

So I guess  this is  it-, follow your heart day in and day out, and love wins.

Sorry to be so simplistic, but this is it.

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Henry Rollins

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I resist any idea of trying to get back on any horse I got off of. I just don’t see the point. I don’t want to be what I was. I want to be what I haven’t been yet.

Henry Rollins, LA Weekly blog (2.24.17)

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To explain is not to feel

My vision about a lot of modern life problems is sometimes very narrow, altough I always do my best not to be too simplistic, too shallow. I always try to go into the depth, to find the core issue, to analyze.. 

I fail to understand whatever it is that makes me pissed, because I try very hard to explain it, with facts, with mental connections, with symbols, but not with personal experience, because it feels too scarry.

Experience in and of itself can be dull, if I automatically damper its feeling. Even my quest for knowledge needs me to let go of my quest for knowledge.

A lot of what I really want and need is hardly anything more than the desire to fully live. And to live with joy.

Self confidence and positivity seem mandatory nowayads. They are social norms, pillars of every succesful relationship, even antidotes for depression.

I knew  I never really had them. They were severely underdeveloped. 

Probably because a lot of times I didn’t need them. Whatever success I experienced, I would consider it just came my way, and felt joy, and never tought about it again. Whatever good thing I experienced, I just assumed it was meant to happen to me and I just enjoyed it.

But later on, negative and painful things started to happen and I started to question my abilities, my value, my importance, my destiny. It is safe to say this brought me a huge amount of pain, because I felt lost at the outset.

I didn’t know how to trust myself because I never needed to trust myself for anything, my life just happened, and it was nice for a while. I didn’t know how to value myself because I’ve always felt valued and loved, most of the time.

But that scenario started to backfire, more often than not. When I had to deal with adversity in life, I felt absolutely powerless, defenceless.

 I started to look around for points of reference. And I saw people very different than I was. They were resilient, they were proud, they were expecting the best, they were holding on to whatever positive thing they could create or obtain, they were succesful or at least they seemed happy. Whatever tragedy happened, they were out there, facing it, fighting it, learning another skill, trusting their hearts, looking out for their loved ones, eating good, being loud and so on.

I instantly felt disconnected, I felt I could never be like them, I felt that was a shoe that didn’t fit me. I tried to do what they did, but the results, however positive, could never stick with me and shape my self confidence. The work was too challening, I couldn’t understand, I never felt self-confident, in reality, I merely felt happy, but I didn’t feel I could depend on my actions, I could protect myself and trust myself, I always felt like mostly everything I did was somehow against me, on a deeper level. 

But I wanted what they had, so badly. When I was done with wanting what they possesed (beauty, skills, money, social status), I decided I wanted what they displayed: resilience, power, and above all: trust and faith. 

I thought I did trust and I had faith as well, but I was never really challenged to feel them deeply.

A lot of years, self confidence was a huge struggle, like trying to put on a dress which fits, apparently, but in reality it’s too tight, doesn’t give you ease of motion. All the mantras, the “love yourself” quotes, the positivity, they felt dull, they didn’t feel mine. Positivity made me feel good but I couldn’t actively sustain it on my own, I could only think and think and think and think until exhaustion.

Obviously, I felt trapped in a cage of my own creation. How could I survive in a world where I could’nt help but experience hurt, pain, and difficulties? 

How could I go on, and even hope for a better future? It was obvious for me that self confidence was not a choice, since I couldn;t sustain it, and it seemed to require huge amounts of mental work and reflection.

And then, when I was deeply struggling to find a way, I felt trust, because I felt way too tired to feel anything else. I trusted my decisions. A few days later, I found myself genuinely expecting a good outcome, with no doubt about it. Why?

Because I was exhausted. Mentally and emotionally I couldn’t process the information, and I was forced to really try something new for a change.

It dawned on me, how could these people be like this all the time. They weren’t deliberately choosing this over pessimism and distrust, they simply chose what felt good. It feels good to trust yourself, it feels good to act decisevely and expect a good outcome. It even feels good to feel in your heart that there’s hope, particularly when there’s no concrete evidence of it.

This behaviour, this attitude, felt like a huge enigma for me, It seemed easier to pour concrete 15 hours in a row, than this. I though it was a something extremly complicated, a combination of pshysical traits, mental traits, life experiences, blue blood, intelligence, activity, spitituality. 

In actuality, the feeling of it alters my way of being. It feels divine.

People practice it because success feels dull without it, life feels dull without it. People in loving relationships practice it not because there isn’t real love there , but because they know and understand how the human mind, and life itself will always present challenges.

 I always chose to believe that self confidence is a trick, some kind of magic somebody does to replace actual skills or actual value. I was really goofy and I feel like I needed a good hug, and I still do. 

Life is not always easy, or beautiful, and even if it is, some of us are not born with the inertia of good feelings. Some of us become isolated, impenetrable, sad angry, because this is how it feels to be alive sometimes.

Very few of us dare to create our customized self confidence, our customized positivity, which does not feel tacky, but instead feels like it belongs with us, and makes us enjoy a good challenge and even have hope that a huge pain will eventually reveal something precious. 

We feel isolated because we don’t seem to posses the boldness, richness, and focus of other people, and we cry, our soul cries. But we’re only people, after all, and we don’t always know the way. But sometimes we can feel it, sometimes somebody else shows it to us. Sometimes we understand. Sometimes we understand, looking around and paying attention, that self confidence, love, and positivity are only designed to look and seem so out of reach, are only designed look like weapons of mass destruction . Self confidence is not kyrptonite for humility. 

Self confidence is humility itself, it’s kryptonite for pain and depression. But it never kills that internal struggle, because it’s not supposed to.Self confidence saves lifes, helps others, creates magic out of nothing, creates hope out of misery.Trust and faith understands limitations and humbly ignores them. Trust and faith and self confidence give birth to light where there’s only darkness. 

There are so many things that happen without planning, without much thought, without much sense. We happen to ourselves a lot of times, and when we do, it helps to feel alive, to feel like ourselves, whatever we might be.

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All the spiritual shit is actually about very concrete actions, and that makes me pissed

 I used to believe that people are very boring. I still do.

I used to believe only few of them are lucky. I still do..

I coped with pain by trying to be aware of all the spiritual advancement  I can achieve. But that’s bullshit. The years go by and I don’t get what I want.

People have all these theories about why things don’t happen and shit. That the universe knows, the universe cares. But I am a human being and my mental sanity is very much affected by all the things I don’t understand.

Uncertainity is one thing, but relying on obscure spiritual forces to write your storyline, that’s sad. I believe. I’m a believer. But I’m also a human being, and if facts are the way to achieving happines, I will act. But I will act my way.

I read some line on the internet these days and it got me pissed as hell “

The road to success means going after it, without taking it for granted and without loss of enthusiasm.”

....MOTHERFUCKER.

If we don’t act, we’re passive, we have to make our own luck.

If we act, we’re not spiritual, we’re not enthusiastic, we’re not open.

But when the fuck do we get to be human?

When do we get to be realistic, not even compassionate, but realistic?

If we need to act with hope, do we even acknowledge that many of us have not been born with hope?

We don’t know how to stay in the game, how to say dorky encouragements to each other, how to high five after every small accomplishment. Do we know how to focus? Not on hope, but on anything?

We are asked not only to succeed, but to be spiritually evolved no matter what happens in our lives. But we are who we are. It’s not that we can’t change, but change requires practice, and practice needs help, practice needs genuine, GENUINE WISDOM AND COMPREHENSION.

We have needs. We are told constantly we don’t need what we need. For instance, I need very concrete weird signs that seem to indicate some sort of road map I can use to guide me. I am not happy without these signs. And when I try to make them up with my mind, I feel miserable, I feel like a fool.

Another hard fact is that it’s very hard for me to pay attention and focus. Another hard fact is that I’m easily discouraged. I am still easily discouraged even if I try to be super positive, super driven, super whatever. I hate myself when I see this, especially when I meet ambitious,mentally strong people.

But nowadays I’m bored of hatred. This is just another of my traits, I’m easily bored. I’m bored of always trying to change myself, better myself. It takes a lot of time and I see no improvement in my life. I’d rather just be easily discouraged, and stop expecting not to be. What I also sense that I need, because I’m very intelligent, is that I’d rather be encouraged than simply rely on my mental strength. Both need to work hand in hand.

 I haven’t had much luck in that area, because I only seem to find either negative people, or extremly cautios, extremly rational, extremly precaucious people.

Not exactly what I’d like. But maybe that’s because my own milkshake brings all these debbie downers to the yard.

THIS IS THE FUCKING MOMENT OF TRUTH.

TRY TO BE THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT YOU ARE, OR SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE IN A VORTEX OF CAUTIOS,PESIMISTIC ADVICE?

As you can very well see, there’s no grey area for me. I’s either being the best version of yourself, or mneah, I don’t want it.

Fair enough.

Realistically speaking, you don’t get from easily discouraged to a “just do it” attitude just by claping your fingers. Only I would be gullible enough to believe that. You first need to be less easily discouraged. That means, maybe trying just one more time after you fail for the first time. Or, for some of us, that means giving it an honest try.  At first, we will be discouraged, and only see the negatives, and that’s absolutely fucking normal for people like us.

JUST THINKING ABOUT SEING THE POSITIVE SIDE WHEN I FEEL LIKE ABSOLUTE CRAP MAKES ME WANT TO CRY.

Let me be. Let my ego be happy it’s right. Have a good laugh with my ego. 

Humbly challenge my ego, without even noticing it. 

Slowly, but fucking surely, I will maybe get to discouragement, not easily, but fully. And there are times in our lives when discouragement is the absolute best.

There’s a very fine line betweeen easily discouraged and obsessive, if you’re me, a person of extremes. 

So how do you know? You don’t. You may rely on your intellect to guide you (something I always take pleasure in doing, because it makes me feel smart), but hard and complex situations require more than pure reason. 

They require, in the following order:

-Listening to our heart and feelings and being honest about how we feel

-Listening to the random (our intuition)

-Listening to good hearted, trustworthy people, who don’t know exactly what we want and need but can guide as through our dark time

-Having the bravery to write our own story, at the end of the day, even if that story looks a bit more like us and not like the perfect version of some mythological greek god.

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Richard Burton in The Taming of the Shrew, 1967

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Elizabeth Taylor, c.1956

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No importa lo que pase, soy fuerte, ruidosa, terrosa y estoy lista para vivir mucho más.

Aries, Leo, Sagitario (via aries-bravery)

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Elizabeth Taylor in The Girl Who Had Everything, 1953. [1/2]