Link with 10 notes
"Being foreveralone has got me so down right now." →
thedeadsigh (original poster)
I feel like recently I’ve just been going through these highs and lows. Today is really low. I hate being alone. I wish I knew what it was about me that is so unattractive. I mean I’m sure it’s multiple things. I guess I just wish I was normal and happy. I’ve tried to improve my life with working out, dieting, and trying to be social. I’m still just the same old 23yo virgin who’s never had a girlfriend. Nothing I do seems to make a difference. I just seems like no matter how hard I try and no matter how nice I am, there just seems to be this invisible force repelling everyone away from me. I’m so worried that I’m going to die alone. I know I’m young but everything around us tells us that being a virgin is like the worst thing ever. Even if I managed to ever get a date, how lame am I going to sound when they find out I’ve never had a girlfriend? How does an interesting and decent looking guy manage to never be in a relationship? They are going to think something is wrong with me. That I’m faulty or something. I just feel so left out, so unloved, and so ugly.
I know I can’t force anyone to love me, or like me for that matter. I know I’ll probably never find someone for me. All I want to do is forget it. I don’t want this stuff to bother me. I want to live my life, alone or not. I just don’t want to feel anymore.
Divayth_Fyr (reply)
I would speak to you of cool breezes.
You may or may not wish to listen to me, since I am 43 years old and have never. Sex, kiss, date, cuddle, whatever a human might want from another human, slap a ‘never’ on it and that is me. Taking my advice might not be a great idea. But I have learned some things.
Sometimes on a warm day, a cool breeze will come along. It just happens. Or it doesn’t happen. There is no schedule for it, no specific reason, nothing I can do to cause it. It feels awfully nice when it does happen. I don’t deserve it, or not deserve it. I can’t earn it.
All I can do is be out there doing whatever I am doing, and enjoy it when it comes along. That is not to suggest you should be passive, not at all. Exactly the opposite. But you should allow life to happen.
You want to stop feeling. You can do that. I did. It can be done. But there is no way—none, zero, no way at all ever—to stop feeling the bad parts without also stopping feeling the good. You do not get to choose that, it cannot be done. If you numb the bad, you numb the glorious.
Have you ever met a girl you thought was pretty nice, but you just didn’t feel that way about her? I don’t think you can just decide to love her, whoever she was. You could decide to think of her as charitably as you can but you can’t feel what you don’t feel. And neither can they. Love is a cool breeze. You can’t decide whether to feel it, all you can do is decide what to do about it if you do feel it.
You know you will probably never find someone for you. Tempting, isn’t it? To have that final answer, to stop enduring the misery of hope. You are sure. It is nice to be sure. It is nice to have that out of the way and not have to wonder and hope, dream and want, need and yearn. Yearn! What a word. But there it is. Yearning. Sounds like a goddamn sonnet but that is the word for it.
You don’t know a goddamn thing. I am sorry, but the bad news is you probably will find someone. You can try being as repulsive as possible and some girl might like you anyhow, people are crazy like that. Stop trying to be sure, and learn to endure uncertainty. Being sure is like riding a flat rollercoaster. Whee.
The bad news is you have hope. Hope’s the rope that keeps you tied in knots—the torture never stops. Even when you find her, and she likes you and she can’t help it and she gets all silly and wants to have your babies and everything, you will still have to hope. It never ever ends. You will hope every day she still loves you. You will hope she isn’t bored with you. You will hope the tests come back negative. You will hope she forgives you. It never, ever ends. Well, until you are dead, and there is time enough for that later I assure you.
There is no solution to hope and uncertainty. All you can do is be who you are and hope like hell. You are not a strategy, you are not an attempt. You are you, and now let’s see what happens.
I still hope. And I will never stop. Failure has no meaning, as I am not attempting to succeed. I am that I am. Who I am does not depend on circumstance or events. I hope, I want, I dream. No matter what, I damn well hope. If I fall from the 87th floor of a building I will hope on the way down. I am hurt, I am disappointed, I am ashamed and miserable and alone. But I will never give up hope. That pain is mine, and I welcome it. I yearn.
I wish you many cool breezes.
Post with 1 note
“I recognize you,” she said in a hushed voice.
Wait what?
“You were on American Idol last night on Sunday, right?”, the random lady said.
Huh? I was?
She nodded back with a grin.
Oh uh sorry, no, I wasn’t.
“Ah, my mistake.”
Hah, no it’s fine, it happens.
“At least,” the woman chuckled, “you know you’ve got a twin on there.”
I’m just hoping it’s an actual resemblance, and that at least the guy could sing…because…this has happened before:
Post with 12 notes
Where do you get your ideas? (1997) by Neil Gaiman
The question authors fear most … Neil tackles it here.
Every profession has its pitfalls. Doctors, for example, are always being asked for free medical advice, lawyers are asked for legal information, morticians are told how interesting a profession that must be and then people change the subject fast. And writers are asked where we get our ideas from.
In the beginning, I used to tell people the not very funny answers, the flip ones: ‘From the Idea-of-the-Month Club,’ I’d say, or ‘From a little ideas shop in Bognor Regis,’ ‘From a dusty old book full of ideas in my basement,’ or even ‘From Pete Atkins.’ (The last is slightly esoteric, and may need a little explanation. Pete Atkins is a screenwriter and novelist friend of mine, and we decided a while ago that when asked, I would say that I got them from him, and he’d say he got them from me. It seemed to make sense at the time.)
Then I got tired of the not very funny answers, and these days I tell people the truth:
‘I make them up,’ I tell them. ‘Out of my head.’
Source: neilgaiman.com
Post with 29 notes
Fun Fact: How does one reset their sleep schedule?
More often than not, there’s probably a good number of people right now greeting the coming school year with a sense of dread, due in some part to surfing the interweb, catching up on the new games, or whatever it is you people have. Social lives, I think that’s what they’re called. And I’m trying to find a way out of staying up til the late late hour of 8 AM.
One option is to simply not stay up so late, and just go to sleep at increasingly earlier times, disciplining oneself to shift away from the activities the winter break had so freely invited in.
Another is to just not sleep for about 24 hours until that desired time, then your “inner clock” automatically resets itself. And you’ll have more time to bullshit around, like me! b( ‘_ ‘)
So you can either do it with a gentle week-at-the-least-long nudge or one day of violently throttling it with your caffeine-infused fists wrapped around its neck until it does what you want.
…Then again, this is less of a fun fact and more of common sense, because that second option basically sounds to me like, “Don’t sleep until you’ll really want to fucking sleep.”
Post with 26 notes
Last final was today.
I- I’m done with finals.
I… I’m free.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHA
Post with 12 notes
“On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning” by Haruki Murakami
One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo’s fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.
Tell you the truth, she’s not that good-looking. She doesn’t stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn’t young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a “girl,” properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She’s the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there’s a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.
Page 1 of 23
