I Still Try Nonetheless
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| Love and Space Dust by David James |
"I am the type of person who needs to be distracted in order to not overthink. I am also the type of person who surpresses a lot. So whenever I have 'down time' all of these thoughts, all of these emotions, and all of these hidden feelings start to resurface all at once. They are usually overwhelming, draining, and a bit depressing, but I have learned so much throughout these emotional episodes. I can not change anything. I mean, I can, but the things that are hurting me the most are completely out of my hands. I have come to understand that there is no need for me to ask questions. The answers will not make a difference. Things will always be however they are meant to be. Some days are better than others, but I still try nonetheless."
Because no one enjoy listening to sad stories, they only get high on sad writings. It goes otherwise with happy things. No one would appreciate happy writings, they only go easy listening to happy stories. Funny how your eyes and ears cooperate with such moods.
You know another funny thing? We only hear and see things we want to see and hear. We sabotage ourselves. We limit ourselves to read, to listen, to hear, and to feel both sad and happy stories when we love to.
We are incapable of get surprised or giving one because we get so easy with life. We stop appreciate and be thankful. We get so angry and furious about things we do not know. We spit the ego on one's face because we are so weak, so soft, and so relentless. You know what? Go make an art. It saves your life. It saves you, I promise. Feel it and turn it into one fucking art.
Do not let those pains go without becoming a thing. Let your heart yearning for something more like a cup of regret from the past lover, or hidden anger you keep for so long knowing that the most intimate thing, or the most secret thing remain hidden to you...from the person you love. Feel it and pour it into art.
Because, darling, art is about all that...from time to time. Art is about a lover who doesn't love you back. Art is about loving more than one person at once. Art is about a past lover who incapable to move on. Art is about a lover who cheats on you, making you a fool, yet you still fall for it. Art is about being a slut for someone just because you do not want to feel alone. Art is about feeling sorry for yourself. Art is life itself: a pain, a regret, a sorry, a lust, more of lust, less responsibilty, and many 4am thoughts and memories. What makes art an art that it represent the voiceless voice inside us. The stupid one.
That is why, even it hurts, people still do it, over and over again. Even if you give them chance to another scenario, they would choose the same moron thing again and they would say: "It was worth the pain..."
It was worth the pain.
It is not now,
but I promise,
It will worth the pain,
in the end.
Because what is love without those breathless statements?
Because what is life without those unbearable pain you have been carried all the way here?
Because who are you without those tears and laughs?
Therefore, I curse art. I curse art for making me breath heavily. I curse art for it produces carbon monoxide that fills my lungs. For any great artist died young, I curse art. Oh, yes, therefore, I curse art. I put an unforgiveable curse to the only thing I love...art.
Because no one enjoy listening to sad stories, they only get high on sad writings. It goes otherwise with happy things. No one would appreciate happy writings, they only go easy listening to happy stories. Funny how your eyes and ears cooperate with such moods.
You know another funny thing? We only hear and see things we want to see and hear. We sabotage ourselves. We limit ourselves to read, to listen, to hear, and to feel both sad and happy stories when we love to.
---
We are incapable of get surprised or giving one because we get so easy with life. We stop appreciate and be thankful. We get so angry and furious about things we do not know. We spit the ego on one's face because we are so weak, so soft, and so relentless. You know what? Go make an art. It saves your life. It saves you, I promise. Feel it and turn it into one fucking art.
Do not let those pains go without becoming a thing. Let your heart yearning for something more like a cup of regret from the past lover, or hidden anger you keep for so long knowing that the most intimate thing, or the most secret thing remain hidden to you...from the person you love. Feel it and pour it into art.
Because, darling, art is about all that...from time to time. Art is about a lover who doesn't love you back. Art is about loving more than one person at once. Art is about a past lover who incapable to move on. Art is about a lover who cheats on you, making you a fool, yet you still fall for it. Art is about being a slut for someone just because you do not want to feel alone. Art is about feeling sorry for yourself. Art is life itself: a pain, a regret, a sorry, a lust, more of lust, less responsibilty, and many 4am thoughts and memories. What makes art an art that it represent the voiceless voice inside us. The stupid one.
---
That is why, even it hurts, people still do it, over and over again. Even if you give them chance to another scenario, they would choose the same moron thing again and they would say: "It was worth the pain..."
It was worth the pain.
It is not now,
but I promise,
It will worth the pain,
in the end.
Because what is love without those breathless statements?
Because what is life without those unbearable pain you have been carried all the way here?
Because who are you without those tears and laughs?
---
Therefore, I curse art. I curse art for making me breath heavily. I curse art for it produces carbon monoxide that fills my lungs. For any great artist died young, I curse art. Oh, yes, therefore, I curse art. I put an unforgiveable curse to the only thing I love...art.
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