veryterry
What is a credible source?
With the internet nowadays, you can easily find information about anything. The problem is, this availability comes due to the fact that almost anyone with internet access can post information online. You have no idea if the essay you'd just read was by a scholar or just the random musings of a teenager. How can you trust who's on the other side of the screen if you have no idea who it may be?
What follows is anybody's guess.
He's just responsible for making sure something happens. What ensues is none of his responsibility. Things can go to hell, shit can hit the fan, or happy-ever-afters can follow, but he doesn't care. He has only one goal in mind and nothing, no matter the repercussions of his actions, can stop him. He's determined and on-track to accomplishing that one task he's worked on since the beginning.
Your worst enemy is yourself.
You can never stifle that voice in the back of your head telling you you'll never be good enough, you should try harder, no one really loves you, &c. You try to tune that voice out and drown yourself in the encouraging words of family and friends but at night, when you're lying on your bed waiting for sleep to take you, that voice speaks up in midst of the silence and you hear the raging insults and critics and feel like you'll never match up to what people expect you to be. Then you break down and cry.
It's not impossible, he tells himself. Despite his pessimistic outlook on life due to his bitter life experiences, he still holds to that romantic side of him that looks for the best in everyone and everything. Maybe the very fact that things like this were so rare made it so much more precious and beautiful. They had met just a day ago but he felt like he'd known forever.
When they met, it was an electrocution and exchange of chemistry. Sparks flew. He didn't know if it could be it seemed like love followed.
Bowling is such a popular activity. In so many chick flicks and teenage drama reads, the main characters go bowling. A strike means so much and there's a bunch of playful competition. The kids rejoice and all such.
I personally do not find so much joy in bowling. First of all, I suck at it. I hit the gutter almost every other time. I have no idea what's the difference between the different-sized balls. And do we really have to wear the shoes? They're uncomfortable and ugly. All in all, bowling is not my thing. I'd much prefer pool.
There was a visitor at the door.
She hesitantly peered through the peephole to see who it was. It was an unrecognized man of formidable height with unruly light blond hair and an impressive build. If she hadn't known better, she'd think he was a movie star or wrestler. Of course, she knew better--it was a guy at her door. There was no reason for either of the two above contenders to be at her door.
She hesitated between opening it and pretending she wasn't home and finally put her hand on the doorknob and pulled.
He was cool as ice, and she meant that in every way.
Cool, like popular kid cool. There was something about the way he carried himself that exuded that simple confidence and self-assurance in his capabilities. He knew what he was doing and knew that he looked damn good doing it. The cool factor was easy as cake for him.
At the same time, he was colder than anyone she'd ever met. He treated life mostly with a disinterested glance and nothing ever warranted more than an apathetic assent of existence from him. It scared her how indifferent he was towards life, but perhaps that was what added to his cool charm.
The level of severity amounted to danger. It was unfathomable what would happen next because no one could predict the Byronic hero's movements. Would he surrender? Would he insist to forge on with their previous efforts? Would he change tactics? The unpredictability of the situation made everyone even more restless, eager to figure out what exactly they should do now to reduce casualties and maximize the chances of their victory.
She sits quietly in the library, listening to the sound of pages being turned. Pages turned, lessons learned. There is a myriad of lessons to learn in this collection of literary classics, if only people were willing to explore it. She knows she isn't the smartest individual on the planet, but she frequents the library not for acquiring intelligence but for studying the past and anticipating the future. She desires not now but what had happened and what shall.
On afterthought, maybe this wasn't that bad of a decision. Leaving him, in fact, would probably be one of the best choices in life she'd make. It was obvious them being together wasn't helping either; he was strapped to an illusory love, she was strapped to a bottom-end job in society. He wanted a family; she wanted a career. They simply didn't match each other in any way. When they'd first met, they'd somehow quietly clicked but upon second thought, appearances was perhaps was where their similarities ended.
But on second thought, breaking up was also very hard.
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writing since 2012 · 17 entries · 17 days shown up
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