Nobody seems to understand why the past is so important to me. When your life shatters around you, you have to find all the pieces. You can’t just replace them. They matter and without all of them, the picture makes no fucking sense.
Where you come from, it’s who you are. It’s the answer to all of the hanging question marks above your head. Those answers don’t always come. And I think even the ones that do, arrive later.
The things you forget or can’t recover? Loss. All loss.
That’s a part of you too. It’s alright.
But it’s normal to want to know where you come from. What you come from. It’s a road map, a flashlight, a compass.
It’s holy fucking annoying when someone gets under your skin, disappoints you, and then you barely have any words about it.
I’m fucking stupid.
Hope you’re having a fantastic night.
There are so many things that I do not know. What I do know are these things:
Whatever it means, I love you. I tend to interpret abstract concepts like love in a very expansive way, for the record. But I do. I love you. As my friend. As a lover. As a person. You’re great.
You have carried something special to me since the day I met you. I am not often drawn to people, and I’ve always had a weak spot for you. For whatever reason. Since the day I first laid eyes on you. When you spoke, you became the center of the universe. I can’t explain any part of it. But I’ve wanted, blindly, basely, irresistibly, to be connected with you in some way. For as long as I’ve known you. Unconditionally.
For what it’s worth (likely nothing!) I will always love you. In the way that I do. I obviously have strong romantic feelings for you, but I think you’re special enough, truly, that I could always be your friend. Whatever happens. I mean, provided that you don’t do something fucking stupid.
I think you’re very special though.
These are the things I know with every piece of my being, but cannot explain.
I’m not simply surviving anymore.
I’m not faking anything.
I’m not faking anything.
I’m not faking anything because I have to, anyway.
I’m feeling. Being. Enjoying things.
For so long I’ve been acting. I’ve been a shell that was filled with all of the wrong things. I had to study the art of seeming ok. Of being ok. Of smiling when good things happened, even if those good things meant nothing to me.
I haven’t felt self-conscious about a lack of happiness in a year. I haven’t looked around, realized that my listlessness was buzzkilling everyone in the room, and laughed because that’s what you do.
I’m full of (if not the right things) something now. I’m excited about stuff again. I’m better, I’m better.
I could scream with joy.
I never thought. I never thought it could be like this, again.
Bruised but not broken.
To me, these strongly negative reactions to this woman’s critique really speak to how the term “politically correct” is a massive use of projection. The truth is not that people who think critically about how entertainment reinforces stereotypes and oppressions just go around getting all offended at stuff without even thinking about it, reacting solely on how our self-centered, solipsistic emotions react. The truth is that that’s exactly what uncritical fanboy fonts of unexamined privilege do whenever they’re told their favorite things might be alienating or offensive to other people.
Yesterday something clicked for me that’s never clicked before.
I figured out the answer to the gigantic hanging question mark in my life.
I am 100% taking joy in my own self from now on. Not as a reaction to something. I just am. I must.
I will no longer give my time and energy to those who do not respect me. I will expect reciprocal respect and energy and investment always, and if it is not given, I will move on. Because I am worth that.
I will never pine again. I will never overcompensate with bitchiness because I have nothing to fake anymore. I will never appease or attempt to impress again. I will not define myself by anyone’s opinion but my own.
I will trust myself. I do trust myself. I love myself. I finally get this somehow. It feels fucking awesome.
Run For Your Lives Goals: a timeline
Deadline: November 2, 2013; 22 weeks
Goal 1: Complete a 5k at a jogging pace without stopping
- Method: Successfully commit to and complete C25K
- Time allotted: 9 weeks.
Goal 2: Continuously work to pare down time and increase distance.
- Run 5k 3x per week minimum, gradually decreasing time and increasing diversity of terrain, absolutely including hills.
- Complete sprints and interval drills 2x per week
- Gradually work in resistance training
- Gradually adjust to lighter weight shoes and using correct running form
- Time allotted: 13 weeks
Goal 3: Anticipate and train for obstacles
- Gradually work obstacles into training beginning at week 13. Climb, jump, slide, duck, and dive over and under various obstacles and work to retain balance and coordination each week.
- Time allotted: 9 weeks.
- Must adhere to training schedule exactly. If a training day must be skipped due to schedule or illness, time and progress must be made up.
- If training day skipped due to injury, progress must be made up but time doesn’t have to be.
- Body must have adequate fuel. Hydration must be prioritized all day, every day.
- At least 6-7 hours of sleep per night.
- No smoking.
- No drinking.
- Must track progress every day. Fitness journal will include before and after photos to visually map progress, daily entries (even on rest days) cataloging activity, food, hydration, soreness or pain, emotions, dosage of all drugs, time and distance.
- Must take vitamins every day.
This is my new hobby while I’m broke and out of school.
there are more juggalos on earth than there are polar bears. if that isnt enough to make you care about global warming then i dont know what is