// February 10, 2012//

writeletterstoyou:

Dear You,

I want to live in the madness of reality. We say things, we search things, and everyday I talk of how dissuaded I am by this life, how deeply unmoved I feel in the presence of humans.

But fuck it if this isn’t all the world, and all I will ever have, and all I will ever want. I only have one life, I know that now. I’ve always known that, but now I understand why it is so important, why there is nothing else.

Dreams do a lot. They mean much to a person, they corrupt us, fix us, love us, hate us, bring us to life, and live with us. But they aren’t real, are they? No. They are not.

Reality is hectic. It builds and breaks, it burns. It lights me up. It is a fire, deranged and maddened by all the past, it is burning everything in sight, it is blistering me, it hurts. But I love the warmth, and every fire dies down, and every cloud fucking rains. And everyday, something happens I may not like, but then it moves on does it not? Life fucking happens. Dreams sometimes stop.

-Me

(Source: writeletters-dearyou)

Standing at a crossroad. Which path should I take? Heart or Head? Certainty or Ambiguity? Being an adult is hardwork.