Dec 14, 2007

Random emo *snort*

Naivety is stupidity.
I am naive to dream that everything is so beautiful.
I am naive to belief on people.
I am naïve to belief on karma. She still live happier as compare to me
I am naive to the point of forgiving **** and let her have the chance to hurt me
I am naive to the point of sheer stupidity.
This is simply laughable.
Things just didn't go my way.
Disappointed, hurt, and lonely

It's perhaps time for me to grow up and walk out of my own circle.
Leaving the pessimistic side of me behind
despite all these,
I remained naive to believe that hopes prevail.
I've leave it all to faith.


I am entirely lost in life, which I hate saying because it seems so much the privilege of the privileged. I'm not a scion of wealth or power, though I grew up in an objectively comfortable home. I feel, in some way, that I am capable -- compelled, even-- to do so something interesting, dynamic, substantive, creative with my life. And yet I am wholly incapable of being interesting, dynamic, substantive or creative.

I realize I have no idea what I want to say or, really, who I am. People constantly tell me to continue study, complete Degree at UK, work -- and yet I find I'm terminally intimidated by the idea of actually defining myself, to the point of paralysis. I can't decide what to do with my life because whatever I do just won't say the right things, which sounds (and probably is) horribly solipsistic. I really can’t make up my mind, even if I’m sure of what I want but still I wouldn’t have the chance to succeed. Because I couldn’t choose my own path, my future is decided by moi parents

I've allowed things to wither to such a point that I'm literally involved in nothing, interested in less and less and, frankly, worried about a slide into real depression (mental illness and suicide, though I'm not near this point), where I exile the few things left that mean anything to me. I have no idea how to make anything of myself, no idea what to make of myself, and no idea who to make of myself

I feel, very literally, as though I'm wasting away -- muscles and thoughts and feelings just crumbling aside. And yet I have no idea how to make it stop. I hate myself for even being this awake to my own complacencies and grudges and otherwise dead to the world

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