Tag Archives: suffering
I decided to write a quick post, because in just over 2 weeks I’ll be swinging around for my 3rd time! 😀
I am beyond stoked and giggling with anticipation!
We suspend with Russ Foxx from Vancouver British Columbia 🙂
So much fun!
Check him out: http://www.facebook.com/#!/Transhumanbodyarts
“I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” ― Marilyn Monroe
This is ultimately one of my favorite quotes.
Do you ever feel like the smallest person in the world? Like everyone and everything is better than you? I get that way… more than most people think I guess. I am honestly one of the most insecure people I know… which is laughable. But so true.
I am constantly comparing myself to others and I usually find myself lacking. I struggle with trying to become better to please everyone around me. It’s exhausting and tough and I struggle a lot. Some days I’m pretty sure the world is one up on. I feel like I’m standing under a mountain and its crashing down on me.
I feel like I’ll never be good enough and that I am just not enough. I feel like my morals and my beliefs are holding me back because while they define me they also happen to constrict me at times. I feel restricted like I’m that old lady no one cares about. I feel like I’m outdated and boring. I don’t really feel like I’m original or like I’m really all that amazing at all.
It’s hard to sit and see all those others people doing everything you can’t/won’t. It’s discouraging especially when people around you really admire them or fantasize about them and you feel like you’re usually forgotten because you fall between the cracks. You’re not flashy enough or you’re not eye catching.
“I kill myself from the inside out” – interesting how that makes sense. “I strive for things that I don’t need… what I chase won’t set me free.” – goo goo dolls got it right.
“Everything is all wrong here…” that’s how I feel.
“Who the hell did I think I was…”
I feel so lost today, I don’t really know if this was a long time coming or not… but god do I ever feel boring, plain and inadequate. Hmmmm
Should I share this with the world? Will people laugh? Will people wonder?
I struggle with a lot and its hard to appear like nothing bothers me. I am so fucking sensitive and it makes me grimace to think about it.
I hate being this way, I just wanna be able to let things bounce off. I want to not be so jealous and insecure. I want to be more tough and more brave.
I feel like the worlds trials are just getting to me. I can’t wait this. It sucks.
I want to be better, to be prettier to be more exciting. I want to do all those things that you all seem to love so much but I fear if I change myself I’ll lose myself for good. I feel like I’ll get lost in the black hole that is expectation.
Talk about having a “I feel so fucking lost” moment. >_<
I really need to get my head figured out. This is pathetic. I feel fucking pathetic. Okay I’m going to hide now. Ignore my word vomit from my troubled soul. I’m just having an off day, I’m sure I’ll bounce back tomorrow.
“Most people carry that pain around inside them their whole lives, until they kill the pain by other means, or until it kills them. But you, my friends, you found another way: a way to use the pain. To burn it as fuel, for light and warmth. You have learned to break the world that has tried to break you. ” ― Lev Grossman
This is perfect for us masochists of the world. I feel this really suits me.
“It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.” ― Rose Kennedy
I think I believe this.
“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door — Only this, and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore — For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; — This it is, and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”— here I opened wide the door; — Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!” — Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice: Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore — Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; — ‘Tis the wind and nothing more.”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door — Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door — Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore — Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning— little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.” ― Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven