I Need To Vent And Rant Or I Am Going To Explode
I don’t know what to do when I realize that as a human I will be used and I will use others.
Making love to you is the most intoxicatingly wonderful feeling in the existence of my life, but having to let you go shows me my selfishness, my repressed controlling nature, and the attachment that surfaces in using somebody else for my happiness.
I scream from the deepest crevice of my soul, “Being human is a paradox that unless we mentally train ourselves to block off thoughts, sends us in agony.”
Why did he not text me?
He doesn’t love me?
Maybe he does love me but thinks that I don’t.
The questions are endless to the fact we will never know the hidden and secret thoughts of anyone around us.
I don’t want to be possessive or controlling but I am.
I want to be humble and not make how much I get paid a priority and to do things from the heart, but then I get annoyed at all demands or unsatisfied expectations.
“They just tell me what to do, but inwardly I’m telling them what to do as well, wishing I got it easier.”
While there are construction workers slaving away at a mere $20 an hour, who are the greatest artists in history yet go unrecognized and unappreciated.
And here I go complaining when things don’t go my way.
I realize my selfishness, my possessiveness, how do I escape being in this flesh?
To instead be like the leaf on the tree that even though it is alive never forces, molds, or hurts others to get their way.
As I write this I am beginning to feel better.
Like a bottle that needs to explode and spill its feelings out, that is what writing does for me.
Now I can breathe.
I can smile.
Because I let it out.
Now to be me, in a world where I am told who to be.
Making love to you is the most intoxicatingly wonderful feeling in the existence of my life, but having to let you go shows me my selfishness, my repressed controlling nature, and the attachment that surfaces in using somebody else for my happiness.
I scream from the deepest crevice of my soul, “Being human is a paradox that unless we mentally train ourselves to block off thoughts, sends us in agony.”
Why did he not text me?
He doesn’t love me?
Maybe he does love me but thinks that I don’t.
The questions are endless to the fact we will never know the hidden and secret thoughts of anyone around us.
I don’t want to be possessive or controlling but I am.
I want to be humble and not make how much I get paid a priority and to do things from the heart, but then I get annoyed at all demands or unsatisfied expectations.
“They just tell me what to do, but inwardly I’m telling them what to do as well, wishing I got it easier.”
While there are construction workers slaving away at a mere $20 an hour, who are the greatest artists in history yet go unrecognized and unappreciated.
And here I go complaining when things don’t go my way.
I realize my selfishness, my possessiveness, how do I escape being in this flesh?
To instead be like the leaf on the tree that even though it is alive never forces, molds, or hurts others to get their way.
As I write this I am beginning to feel better.
Like a bottle that needs to explode and spill its feelings out, that is what writing does for me.
Now I can breathe.
I can smile.
Because I let it out.
Now to be me, in a world where I am told who to be.
31-35, F
