The hardest part of accepting anything usually isn’t the fact that bad things happen – it’s how one deals with that trauma, and how it affects them later on in life. Living alone doesn’t give me a lot of room to water down the past or the present with medial tribulations of everyday life. I can see how the mundane responsibilities will wear people down, taking care of the things they have to take care of. To where it exhausts them anyways, beyond thoughts.
And because I am sort of aligned with remaining simple or somewhat less complicated – I only see what I’ve done, where I am, and where I would like to go. And trying to figure out if getting there, makes the journey worth it all. Had one had everything they ever wanted, they would never see the things they never had, or the things that they had lost.
I can’t say I’d ever want to live in any situation that would make me not miss the first days of fall. Or miss being woken up on a 65 degree morning and walking to a bagel shop , because she said ‘I’d never had one’.
I would miss that too much. I wouldn’t settle for a cookie cutter life just to repeat the same things every day until the one day you get a gold watch, and the next day you are buried with it.
If people would just say half the things they lay and think about in the middle of the night because they couldn’t sleep, half of those people would go and chase their hearts desire, and the other half would just lay there and attempt to snuff it out.
Which I’ve done both. Somethings just don’t wash off so easily. And some people are better at hiding it, or faking it. Neither of those of which I am very good at, at all.
Life is just too short and love is way too hard to come by, to live that way. On any given day in anyones world, in my book anyways.
“Es tan corto el amor,
y tan largo el olvido…”