I'm starting to think things don't actually happen for a reason. Maybe we're just grasping for ways to make sense of the chaos around us, and giving meaning to things, which don't have any meaning at all. Maybe we're clinging to hope and our dreams so hard that we forgot about reality. What if we're wrong, and nothing is meant to be? Maybe we're just lost souls endlessly wandering the plains, desperately seeking comfort that things will work out in the end no matter what. What if we tricked ourselves into believing our lives have some sort of purpose, just so we don't have to face the truth that they might not?
How do you end a viscous cycle? This continuum of selectiveness is about the cause and effect of medicating your medication. I run to substances that make it easier to move on, to mend a broken heart, to toast the glory days, yet I wonder if, when push comes to shove, I'm strong enough to survive on my own, without the vapours of potential addictions running through my veins. As tragic as it may seem, I think we all cling to certain things, certain people, anything really to make everyday seem like it's worth it. Then when moments come which take our breath away, which transform the very fabric of who we are, we have something familiar at our side, something that reminds us of home. It's been six months, and at long last, this boy is ready to march back from where he came from. Then I shall finally bare witness to how much I have changed, and how much I still need to.
How do you end a viscous cycle? This continuum of selectiveness is about the cause and effect of medicating your medication. I run to substances that make it easier to move on, to mend a broken heart, to toast the glory days, yet I wonder if, when push comes to shove, I'm strong enough to survive on my own, without the vapours of potential addictions running through my veins. As tragic as it may seem, I think we all cling to certain things, certain people, anything really to make everyday seem like it's worth it. Then when moments come which take our breath away, which transform the very fabric of who we are, we have something familiar at our side, something that reminds us of home. It's been six months, and at long last, this boy is ready to march back from where he came from. Then I shall finally bare witness to how much I have changed, and how much I still need to.
