I’ve realized that I’m destined to be alone and even more importantly than that I realize that I’m more than okay with it. There’s no one who can make me feel shittier than myself and no one can possibly make me happier. Ride or die for myself because there’s never been anyone else.
It’s not late. I’m bored. Chewing on crushed ice as I lay in front of a white heater. I’m freezing on the inside though. There’s nothing to do yet plenty of things I could be doing. I’ve been thinking. I want to write great things and I want to draw greats but I’m just not there yet. I’ve been thinking of the boy I once dated. Boy because he so desperately wants to be a man but fear is stopping him from getting there. But that’s not my problem. My problem is that the world is at my fingertips yet I can feel myself refusing to grab it. I don’t know why. Because I love waking up everyday knowing that I can do whatever the fuck I want.
I have a major character flaw that’s bothering me. I hate when people ask me for help. Not because I don’t like helping people but because I feel if I can do it without help so can you. It bothers me because I really do get pissed and that’s so wrong of me. It’s no one else’s fault that I want to be independent and refuse to ask for help even when I need it. If anything, I should learn from these people who know when to step back and ask for assistance…. or at the very least stop getting pissy with them. I promise I’m working on it though.