catachan
Those were his honest feelings. Whether they were pure one second, or had an agenda behind it all that emerged later, should be beside the point. He was only feeling what he was feeling, and doing what he was doing. How ironic that good intentions can become irresponsibility with the flip of a coin.
It's crushing. I know it is. You don't think I don't know that sheer determination won't help me win my battles? It takes skill, it takes brains, it takes preparation, it takes hard work, it takes money. You don't think I know? But this is the first step. This is the Will. And I am constantly being held back by you and the fact that you're always one step behind - external pressure, internal pressure. It's crushing. From all sides. And I've tried everything - I don't know how to deal with it - how to channel it away.
There's sex with someone you love and then there's just sex. That's all there ever was to it. Lust is something we all have to deal with.
"Moral Relativism is an excuse. It's something people come with because their concept of 'right and wrong' got screwed up somewhere."
Really? To me, morals factor into the means. I don't have a specific set of rules - "I only know what feels good and what feels bad after." And even then, something you do that feels good winds up making you feel like shit. That's pretty much all I can do or say about the matter personally. I'm always worried about the rules I write for myself...worried I may be trapped by them....
Antlers. That was ran through his mind in big bold letters as he stared at the great beast in front of him. If you took those away, it would be a very beautiful beast - a calming sight, something you'd probably take to as a kid instantly. More importantly something your parents would let you take to instantly.
But no, they sat on its head like twisted trees of pain, branching out into aggressive, sharp edges that said "Hey man, I'm a nice enough creature, but don't go screwing around with me alright?"
A failed attempt. You did not reach me. Every quiet gesture, every awkward, overwrought action. All your efforts, all the attempts you've made. You did not reach me. Is it so hard to unlock another person's heart?
What makes history? The winners of course. History is shaped by whatever the winners deem correct. How did we win the war, is easily translatable to how 'they' lost the war. It's often at times the best intentions get waylaid by simple things - the 'right' version of events, whatever that could possibly be, are slowly eroded by the point of view of the winner. When you think about it that way, what the hell do we know? It's a horrible feeling at first, but you'll get used to it.
The feelings are always so intense. A rooted, uncomfortable twist so deep inside of me I can't get rid of no matter what I do. But you know what? This awkwardness, this anxiety, never comes from the feelings, I have for you - no. It always comes from my discomfort over what you might be feeling.
He knew it down to very pore of his body, ever cell of his being. He knew there was no going back, that the way was closed. He knew how she felt. And for the first time, he felt like throwing up.
Ha, what irony, that when I sat myself down to write, instead of encountering the same problem I've always had - finding it impossible to think and write outside the universe of my book, I find the one word that makes me remember you.
You taught me to smile. You made me aware of every camera, of every reflection of myself in the face of another.
And I'm beginning to forget this important lesson. Maybe I learned nothing. I wonder, when we finally part ways and I make my strange departure, will I be able to smile like you've taught me? Maybe I won't. And maybe the reason could be because I was smiling at you.
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writing since 2011 · 12 entries · 12 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means catachan showed up.
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the words catachan reaches for
feelingtrainwritefeelingsvesperfurthersattaughtsmileanothermatterhistorywinnerswhateverwinwar