Reblog — Day [CCCV]
You’re so dull. You’re so boring. You’re so unmotivated and sometimes I feel like you demotivate me. Your attitude is poisonous. I find everything you do so pointless. I don’t feel like you’re helping yourself.
I feel like you’re stuck in a rut. You won’t admit it and you don’t try hard enough. You don’t strive for things and that doesn’t compliment my work ethic. I want to be driven. I want to try hard. I always want more.
You seem so stifled by other people and mostly yourself. You tell me you don’t have a lot of regrets but I feel that you do. When’s the last time you did something productive? How are you working towards your goal?
What is your ultimate dream and how are you going to get there?
I’m beginning to feel we don’t match. I don’t feel like things are working.
I’ve sworn to myself that I’d never depend on anyone for my success and happiness - and I don’t - and I haven’t. Countless times I’ve told my friends and loved ones - I will always rely on myself. I don’t believe it’s fair in dates for the male to always be buying the luxuries, the edibles, the babying of the lady - that’s old, boring and patronises women. Of course I enjoy the occasional double standard. But it’s a guilty pleasure.
But on the contrary, you’re very expensive for me. I love you so much that I want you to be happy, and I want to take you wherever I go. The problem is I pay the price.
I have paid for your travels, I have paid for your meals, I’ve paid for your clothing and all other seemingly necessary essentials. You’re expensive to have and expensive to keep. I feel like such a hypocrite ranting but this has been pent up a while. I’m questioning the very use of you in my life. Why aren’t you doing anything?
Reblog — Day [CCXXXIX]
The space between this post and the last is quite a while, I’ve realised.
It’s been almost seven months now, since I engaged in the rituals of what people would consider a normal relationship and as I’ve feared I have complaints once again. Small expectations that stir the soul within me. On the surface - or shall I say, the physicals of the relationship, everything is fine, I suppose it could also be said that the core of which it runs off is fine too. Everything is functioning as it should.
But there is one key element that I regard extremely highly in my world of expectation and that is nourishment of the mind.
I feed off communication. It drives me, it makes the very cogs inside me whirr with excitement and thirst. So what do I do when I’m with someone whom I love but can’t seem to provide me with that?
I crave. I yearn, and I become disheartened, frustrated and angry. For all the wrong reasons. How did I end up with someone who couldn’t please me so? It’s also not something I can ask for, personality is something that is innate. I cannot plead for a more conversationally adventurous person. Then I get to thinking I was always better off alone and I saw an imminent end to this. Isn’t it daunting to think I could spend eternity with every word in the world spinning inside my head and rolling off the tip of my tongue - not into a pair of understanding ears and mind but into an oblivion of simple bliss? I don’t know.
But I’m a coward, and that is no excuse, I know. I don’t wish to break hearts, theirs or mine.
I selfishly hope that time could be rewound.
And then I think, maybe I’m not even sure what it is I desire…